R.C.  R0SE. 


Hi  TY  OF 

SAN  DIEGO 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIEGO 
by 

FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 


MR.    JOHN  C.    ROSE 

donor 


GEMS  FROM  THE  FRENCH 


VICTORIE-N    SARDOU 


GEMS  FROM  THE  FRENCH 


THREE   ROMANCES 


BY 

THEOPHILE  GAUTIER, 
PAUL  FEVAL    AND 
VICTORIEN  SARDOU 


TRANSLATED  BY  M.  DE  L- 


BRENTANOS 

WASHINGTON  CHICAGO  LONDON 


COPYRIGHT,  1888, 

BY 
BRENTANO'S 

A II  Rights  Reserved. 


PRESS  OF  STRAUSS  ft  KI.EE, 
NBW  YORK. 


CONTENTS. 


FA6X 

JETTATURA 9 

THE  BLACK   PEARL 147 

A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE 203 


JETTATURA. 

BY  THEOPHILE   GAUTIER. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  good  ship  Leopold,  the  large  steamer 
which  plies  between  Marseilles  and  Naples, 
had  just  doubled  Cape  Procida.  The  pas- 
sengers were  all  on  deck,  suddenly  cured  of 
their  sea-sickness  by  the  sight  of  land,  a  more 
efficacious  remedy  than  Malta  pills  and  other 
recipes  prescribed  by  physicians  for  this 
purpose. 

A  group  of  Englishmen  were  assembled  on 
the  upper  deck,  reserved  for  first-class  pas- 
sengers. They  were  all  close-shaven,  their 
cravats  were  tied  with  religious  care,  and  their 
high,  straight  collars  were  as  stiff  as  bristol- 
board  ;  their  hands  were  encased  in  Suede 
gloves,  and  the  varnish  on  their  boots  shone 
brightly  in  the  sun.  This  group  was  com- 
posed of  lords,  members  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  great  merchants,  Regent  Street 
tailors,  and  Sheffield  cutlers — all  very  serious, 

9 


10  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

very  dignified,  and  unspeakably  bored.  There 
were  women  in  profusion,  too,  as  English- 
women are  not  as  sedentary  as  the  females 
of  other  countries,  and  rarely  miss  an  op- 
portunity to  get  away  from  their  little  island. 
These  charming  persons  murmured  the  sac- 
ramental phrase  :  "  Vedi  Napolie  pot  mori" 
with  the  most  delicious  English  accent, 
while  they  consulted  their  tourist  guides 
or  made  notes  of  their  impressions  in  their 
little  memorandum-books,  without  paying  the 
least  attention  to  the  tender  glances  cast 
upon  them,  a  la  don  Juan,  by  a  number  of 
conceited  Parisians  who  hovered  about  this 
bevy  of  loveliness,  while  the  indignant  mam- 
mas read  long  lectures  to  these  fair  misses  on 
the  impropriety  of  the  French. 

Three  or  four  young  men  puffed  away  at 
their  cigars  as  they  walked  up  and  down  the 
quarter-deck,  and  eagerly  noted  the  ever- 
changing  panorama  which  was  passing  before 
their  enchanted  eyes.  It  was  evident  that 
these  young  men  were  artists,  judging  by  their 
straw  hats,  their  sack  coats  ornamented  with 
huge  horn  buttons,  and  their  wide  duck 
trousers,  without  taking  into  consideration 
the  fact  that  they  wore  their  moustaches  a  la 
Van  Dyck,  and  their  hair  either  curled  &  la 
Rubens  or  cut  straight  a  la  Paul  Veronese. 

The  third-class  passengers  were  grouped 


JETTATURA.  II 

in  the  bow  of  the  steamer,  leaning  against  the 
rigging  or  seated  on  coils  of  rope,  munching 
away  contentedly  at  the  remnants  of  their 
provisions,  and  totally  oblivious  of  the  mag- 
nificence of  their  surroundings. 

It  was  a  glorious  day ;  the  blue  waves 
came  in  gentle  ripples,  having  barely  the 
strength  to  obliterate  the  foaming  wake  of 
the  vessel  ;  the  vapor  from  the  smoke-stack, 
which  formed  in  clouds  in  the  beautiful  sky, 
gradually  dissolved  in  snowy  flakes,  while  the 
paddle-wheels,  revolving  in  a  shower  of  liquid 
gold,  joyfully  churned  the  waters  as  if  con- 
scious of  the  proximity  of  a  port. 

The  long  line  of  hills  extending  from  Pau- 
silippi  to  Vesuvius  which  forms  the  wonder- 
ful gulf  in  which  Naples  lies  like  a  nymph  re- 
posing on  the  banks  of  a  stream  after  a  bath, 
began  to  unfold  itself  in  the  distance  in  purple 
undulations,  and  stood  out  in  bold  relief  against 
the  azure  sky  ;  several  little  white  specks  on 
the  dark  background  denoted  the  presence 
of  villas,  scattered  here  and  there  over  the 
country.  The  sails  of  the  fishing-smacks  as 
they  entered  the  harbor  glided  over  the  blue 
waters  like  the  feathers  of  a  swan  scattered 
by  the  breeze,  proving  the  activity  of  man 
even  in  the  midst  of  the  majestic  solitude  of 
the  ocean. 

A  few  more  turns  of  the  paddle-wheels  and 


1 2  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

the  ship  comes  in  sight  of  the  Chateau  of 
Saint  Elm6  and  the  Convent  of  St.  Martin, 
which  stand  out  prominently  on  the  summit  of 
the  mountain  at  whose  base  Naples  is  situated, 
rising  far  above  the  church  steeples,  the  house- 
tops, the  terraces  of  the  hotels,  and  the  facades 
of  the  palaces.  Before  long  the  Chateau 
d'CEuf,  crouching  on  its  foam-washed  reef, 
seemed  to  be  advancing  to  meet  the  steamer, 
and  the  jetty,  with  its  revolving  light,  stretched 
itself  out  like  an  arm  holding  a  torch. 

At  the  extremity  of  the  bay,  Vesuvius  now 
changed  the  bluish  tints  which  distance  had 
lent  it,  for  a  more  vigorous  color  ;  her  sides 
were  furrowed  with  ravines  and  streaks  of 
congealed  lava,  and  from  her  summit,  pierced 
with  little  holes  like  a  pepper-box,  small  jets 
of  white  smoke  ascended  every  now  and  then. 

Chiatamone,  Pizzo-Falcone,  the  wharf  of 
Santa  Lucia,  lined  with  hotels,  the  Palazzo- 
Real,  with  its  myriads  of  balconies,  the 
Palazzo-Nuovo,  and  the  Arsenal  were  now  in 
view,  while  the  ships  of  all  nations  inter- 
mingled their  masts  and  spars  like  a  forest  of 
leafless  trees. 

At  this  moment  a  passenger,  who  had  not 
stirred  out  of  his  cabin  during  the  entire  trip, 
made  his  first  appearance  on  deck.  Whether 
he  kept  to  himself  on  account  of  sea-sick- 
ness, or  whether  it  was  because  he  did  not 


JETTATURA.  13 

care  to  mingle  with  the  other  passengers,  is 
not  known  ;  moreover,  this  spectacle,  novel 
to  the  others,  had  lost  all  charms  to  him,  as 
he  had  seen  all  these  interesting  points  time 
and  again. 

He  was  between  twenty-six  and  twenty- 
eight  years  old,  at  least  a  stranger  would  have 
formed  such  an  opinion  at  first  sight.  His 
hair  was  of  that  peculiar  dark  brown  which  the 
English  style  auburn.  In  the  sun  it  shone 
like  a  dull  copper,  while  in  the  dark  it  was  al- 
most black  ;  he  had  a  forehead  which  would 
have  delighted  a  phrenologist,  an  aquiline  nose 
of  noble  curve,  well-shaped  lips,  and  a  round 
and  symmetrical  chin  ;  and  yet  all  these  fea- 
tures, regular  though  they  were,  did  not  form 
a  pleasing  ensemble.  They  lacked  that  mys- 
terious harmony  which  softens  the  outlines 
and  moulds  them  to  perfection.  There  is  a 
certain  legend  which  tells  of  an  Italian  paint- 
er, who,  wishing  to  represent  the  archangel, 
composed  a  mask  of  incongruous  beauty, 
and  in  this  manner  gave  his  portrait  a  certain 
terrible  expression  without  resorting  to  horns, 
inverted  eyebrows  and  a  contracted  mouth. 
The  stranger's  countenance  produced  just 
such  an  effect.  His  eyes,  especially,  were 
extraordinary;  his  black  eyelashes  contrast- 
ed strangely  with  the  peculiar  pale  gray  of 
the  pupils  and  with  his  dark  brown  hair  ; 


I 4  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

then,  the  thinness  of  the  bones  in  his  nose 
made  them  appear  closer  together  than  the 
principles  of  drawing  permit  them  to  be,  and 
their  expression  was  really  indefinable.  When 
they  were  not  resting  on  something,  a  pecu- 
liar melancholy  and  languid  look  was  depicted 
in  the  gleaming  orbs  ;  if  they  fixed  themselves 
on  any  one,  the  eyebrows  immediately  con- 
tracted and  frowned  until  they  formed  a  per- 
pendicular wrinkle  in  his  forehead  ;  from  a 
pale  gray,  the  pupils  would  turn  green,  tinged 
with  little  black  spots,  and  streaked  with 
yellow  ;  the  glance  they  emitted  was  sharp, 
almost  painful ;  then,  suddenly,  everything 
acquired  its  former  placidity,  and  this  person 
of  mephistophelic  appearance  once  more  as- 
sumed the  bearing  of  a  young  man  of  the 
world,  a  member  of  the  Jockey  Club,  who  is 
about  to  spend  the  season  in  Naples,  and  is 
thoroughly  contented  to  tread  on  a  pavement 
of  lava  in  preference  to  the  unsteady  deck  of 
The  Leopold, 

His  attire  was  elegant,  though  not  conspic- 
uous :  a  frock-coat  of  dark  blue,  a  polka- 
dotted  tie  carefully  knotted,  a  waistcoat  of 
the  same  pattern  as  the  tie,  light  gray  trou- 
sers, and  a  pair  of  fine  patent-leather  shoes 
completed  his  toilette  ;  his  watch-chain  was 
of  plain  gold,  and  his  eye-glasses  dangled 
from  a  neat  silk  ribbon  ;  his  well-gloved 


JETTATURA.  15 

hand  twirled  a  hickory  walking-stick,  orna- 
mented with  a  silver  knob  on  which  a  coat-of- 
arms  was  engraved. 

He  took  a  few  steps  on  the  deck,  then, 
leaning  over  the  taffrail,  he  permitted  his 
eyes  to  wander  toward  the  pier  on  which  car- 
riages were  stationed  and  where  a  crowd  of 
idlers  had  assembled  looking  anxiously  for- 
ward to  the  arrival  of  the  steamer. 

A  flotilla  of  small  boats  had  already  set 
out  from  the  pier  to  storm  The  Leopold,  loaded 
with  hotel  runners,  servants  seeking  employ- 
ment, facchini  and  other  rascals  of  an  assorted 
type  who  had  long  since  learned  to  look  upon 
strangers  as  their  natural  prey  ;  each  rower 
was  doing  his  utmost  to  reach  the  steamer 
first,  and  the  oarsmen  exchanged  vile  epithets 
and  coarse  oaths,  calculated  to  frighten  those 
not  acquainted  with  the  habits  of  the  lower 
class  of  Neapolitans. 

The  young  man  with  the  auburn  hair,  in 
order  to  see  better  had  placed  his  eye-glasses 
on  his  nose  ;  but  his  attention,  attracted  by 
the  concert  of  yells  and  shrieks  which  arose 
from  the  flotilla,  concentrated  itself  on  the 
boats  ;  no  doubt  the  noise  annoyed  him,  for 
his  brows  contracted,  the  wrinkle  in  his  fore- 
head grew  deeper,  and  the  pupils  of  his  eyes 
turned  from  gray  to  a  greenish  yellow. 

Suddenly  a  huge,  foam-crested  wave,  roll- 


1 6  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

ing  in  from  the  open  sea,  raised  the  steamer 
high  in  the  air  and  rushed  on  towards  the  pier, 
where  it  dashed  itself  in  its  mad  fury  against 
the  promenaders,  who  were  completely  taken 
by  surprise  with  this  unexpected  shower-bath  ; 
then,  rolling  backward,  it  brought  a  number 
of  the  small  boats  into  violent  contact,  upset- 
ting three  or  four  facchini,  who  fell  headlong 
into  the  water.  The  accident  was  not  serious, 
as  these  rascals  all  swim  like  fish,  and  a  mo- 
ment later  they  reappeared  on  the  surface, 
their  hair  matted  closely  together,  and  spitting 
out  the  salt  water  by  the  mouthful.  They 
seemed  to  be  as  surprised  at  this  sudden  im- 
mersion as  was  Telemachus,  the  son  of  Ulys- 
ses, when  Minerva,  in  the  guise  of  the  wise 
Mentor,  threw  him  headlong  from  the  sum- 
mit of  a  high  cliff  into  the  sea  to  tear  him 
away  from  the  love  of  Eucharis. 

Behind  this  strange  tourist,  standing  at  a 
respectful  distance,  alongside  a  pile  of  lug- 
gage, was  a  little  groom,  a  species  of  dried- 
up-old-man-of-fifteen,  a  veritable  gnome  in 
livery,  resembling  one  of  those  dwarfs  whom 
Chinese  ingenuity  alone  can  produce  ;  his  face 
was  as  flat  as  a  board,  and  his  nose  was 
scarcely  perceptible,  looking  as  if  it  had  been 
compressed  in  childhood,  while  his  eyes  had 
that  docile  expression  which  certain  natural- 
ists claim  exists  in  the  toad,  No  protuber- 


JETTATURA.  17 

ance  rounded  his  shoulders  or  bulged  out  his 
chest  ;  and  yet  he  gave  one  the  impression 
that  he  was  a  hunchback,  although  it  would 
have  been  a  hard  matter  to  find  the  hump. 
In  a  word,  he  was  a  model  groom,  and  he 
might  have  presented  himself  at  the  Ascot 
races  and  at  the  spring  meeting  at  Chantilly 
without  fear  of  being  too  closely  scrutinized  ; 
any  gentleman  rider  would  have  accepted  his 
services,  notwithstanding  his  repulsive  ap- 
pearance. He  was  unattractive,  but  irre- 
proachable in  his  way,  like  his  master. 

At  last  the  steamer  ran  up  alongside  the 
pier  and  the  passengers  went  ashore  ;  the 
porters,  after  an  exchange  of  gross  insults, 
divided  the  passengers  and  the  luggage  be- 
tween them,  and  took  the  road  to  the  dif- 
ferent hotels  with  which  Naples  is  plentifully 
supplied. 

The  traveller  with  the  auburn  hair  and  his 
groom  started  for  the  Hotel  de  Rome,  fol- 
lowed by  a  phalanx  of  robust  facchini  who 
pretended  to  perspire  and  totter  beneath  the 
weight  of  a  hat-box  or  a  light  parcel,  in  the 
hope  of  receiving  an  extra  large  pourboire, 
while  four  or  five  of  their  comrades  brought 
all  of  their  muscles  into  play  as  they  pushed 
a  wheelbarrow  before  them  containing  two 
ordinary-sized  trunks. 

When   they    reached   the    hotel   and   the 


l8  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

padron  di  casa  had  designated  his  apartment 
to  the  new  arrival,  the  porters,  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  they  had  been  paid  thrice 
the  value  for  their  services,  began  to  gesticu- 
late wildly  and  cry  out  in  a  half-supplicating, 
half-threatening  manner  for  a  tip.  They  all 
talked  together  and  swore  by  all  the  saints 
on  the  calendar  that  they  had  not  been  suffi- 
ciently rewarded  for  their  labor.  Paddy, 
who  remained  alone  to  listen  to  their  recrimi- 
nations— for  his  master,  unheeding  the  de- 
mands and  the  entreaties  of  the  facchini,  had 
already  ascended  the  grand  staircase — looked 
for  all  the  world  like  a  monkey  surrounded 
by  a  pack  of  dogs.  He  attempted  to  quiet 
the  porters  by  a  bit  of  a  harangue  in  his  own 
tongue,  but,  as  the  English  language  failed 
to  produce  the  desired  effect,  he  clinched  his 
fists  and,  assuming  the  attitude  of  a  boxer, 
to  the  great  amusement  of  the  facchini,  he 
suddenly  let  fly  his  right  in  a  manner  worthy 
of  a  Tom  Cribbs  or  a  Sawyer,  and  caught  the 
gigantic  leader  of  the  gang  full  in  the  pit  of 
the  stomach,  sending  him  to  mother  earth  in 
the  most  approved  fashion. 

This  exploit  routed  the  rest  of  the  band  ; 
the  colossus  pulled  himself  together  with  an 
effort  and  rose  to  his  feet,  considerably  the 
worse  for  wear,  and  skulked  away,  without 
even  vowing  vengeance,  rubbing  his  stomach 


JETTATURA.  19 

and  thoroughly  satisfied  that  a  veritable 
demon  was  concealed  in  the  person  of  that 
little  dog-faced  groom  whom  he  had  thought 
he  could  have  knocked  over  with  a  whiff  of 
his  breath. 

The  stranger,  having  sent  for  the  landlord, 
inquired  whether  a  letter  addressed  to  M. 
Paul  d'Aspremont  had  not  been  left  at  the 
office  for  him.  The  proprietor  replied  that  a 
letter  bearing  this  name  had  been  awaiting 
his  arrival  for  over  a  week,  and  hastened  to 
bring  it  up. 

The  letter,  enclosed  in  a  heavy  envelope, 
cream-lead  in  color,  sealed  with  a  bit  of 
blue  wax,  was  written  in  that  peculiar  and 
elegant  style  of  handwriting  which  denotes 
the  possessor  of  an  excellent  education,  and 
which  is  used  to  a  great  extent  among  the 
young  ladies  of  the  English  nobility. 

The  note,  which  M.  d'Aspremont  opened 
with  a  haste  not  prompted  by  curiosity  alone, 
ran  as  follows : 

"  MY  DEAR  MONSIEUR  D'ASPREMONT  : — 
We  have  been  stopping  in  Naples  for  the 
past  two  months.  During  the  voyage,  which 
was  made  in  short  stages,  my  uncle  com- 
plained bitterly  of  the  heat,  the  mosquitoes, 
the  wine,  the  butter  and  the  beds  ;  he  de- 
clared that  one  must  be  really  crazy  to  aban- 
don a  comfortable  cottage,  within  a  few  miles 
of  London,  to  travel  over  dusty  roads  on 


20  ROMANTIC  LIBRAE  Y. 

which  only  second-class  taverns  are  to  be 
found,  taverns  in  which  an  honest  English 
dog  would  be  ashamed  to  pass  a  single 
night ;  but,  in  spite  of  his  grumbling,  he  ac- 
companied me  here — just  as  he  would  have 
followed  me  to  the  end  of  the  world  ;  he  is 
none  the  worse  for  the  trip  and  my  health 
has  greatly  improved.  We  have  taken  up 
our  quarters  in  a  little  whitewashed  villa 
near  the  sea,  in  a  sort  of  a  virgin  forest  com- 
posed of  citron  and  orange  trees,  myrtle, 
laurel  and  rose  bushes  and  other  exotic 
plants.  From  the  summit  of  the  bluff  we 
have  a  delightful  view  of  the  surrounding 
country,  and  you  will  find  a  cup  of  tea  or  an 
iced  lemonade  awaiting  you  any  evening  you 
may  call.  My  uncle,  whom  you  have  fasci- 
nated, I  know  not  how,  will  be  delighted  to 
press  your  hand.  Is  it  necessary  for  me  to 
add  that  your  devoted  servant  would  not  be 
sorry  to  do  likewise,  although  you  hurt  her 
fingers  with  your  ring  when  you  bid  her 
adieu  on  the  jetty  at  Folkestone. 

"ALICIA  W." 


CHAPTER  II. 

PAUL  D'ASPREMONT,  after  dining  in  his 
room,  ordered  a  carriage.  As  there  are  al- 
ways a  number  stationed  near  the  hotels 
awaiting  the  call  of  tourists,  Paul's  wish  was 
instantly  gratified.  The  hack  horses  of 
Naples  are  so  thin,  that,  if  they  were  placed 
alongside  the  famous  Parisian  rosse  the  latter 


JETTATURA.  21 

would  be  accused  of  embonpoint;  their  ema- 
ciated heads,  their  ribs  looking  for  all  the 
world  like  so  many  barrel  staves,  their  pro- 
jecting backbones  which  are  always  flayed 
and  bleeding,  seem  to  implore  the  butcher  to 
use  his  knife  to  put  an  end  to  their  torture, 
for  it  is  regarded  as  a  crime  by  the  Southern 
Jehu  to  feed  his  horses  ;  the  harness  is  con- 
siderably the  worse  for  wear  and  is  frequently 
pieced  together  with  bits  of  rope,  and  when 
the  driver  gathers  up  his  reins  and  cracks  his 
whip  one  would  really  suppose  that  the  horses 
would  faint  and  the  carriage  disappear  in 
smoke,  like  Cinderella's  turnout  when  she  re- 
turned from  the  ball  after  midnight,  against 
the  command  of  the  good  fairy.  But  such  is 
not  the  case  ;  the  nags  brace  up  on  their 
legs,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  take  up 
a  gallop  which  they  never  relinquish  :  the 
coachman  somehow  or  other  imbues  them 
with  fresh  energy,  and  he  knows  how  to  draw 
out  by  a  vigorous  application  of  his  whip  the 
last  spark  of  life  contained  in  their  old  car- 
casses. We  will  not  attempt  to  explain  how 
it  is  that  these  maimed  brutes  can  equal  in 
speed  the  fastest  English  trotters,  for  the  feat 
is  beyond  our  comprehension.  But  this 
miracle  is  of  daily  occurrence  in  Naples,  and 
no  one  seems  surprised  by  the  fact. 

M.    Paul   d'Aspremont's   carriage   dashed 


2  2  ROMA  NTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

through  the  compact  crowd,  grazing  the 
acquaiuloi,  citron  venders'  stands,  the  open- 
air  macaroni  shops,  and  the  bazaars  in  which 
citruls  and  other  sea-fruits  are  for  sale.  The 
lazzaroni,  enveloped  in  their  long,  hooded 
cloaks,  dozed  on  the  sidewalk  heedless  of  the 
passing  vehicles.  From  time  to  time  a  carri- 
colo,  with  its  huge  red  wheels,  would  dash 
by,  the  box-seats  occupied  by  a  mass  of 
monks,  nurses,  facchini  and  other  rascals. 
The  carricoli  are  almost  obsolete  at  present, 
and  it  is  against  the  law  to  build  new  ones, 
but  one  can  put  a  new  box  on  the  old  wheels 
or  new  wheels  on  an  old  box,  and  in  this  in- 
genious manner  manage  to  keep  these  curious 
vehicles  before  the  public. 

Our  traveller  paid  but  little  attention  to  this 
picturesque  and  ever-changing  panorama, 
which  certainly  would  have  gladdened  the 
heart  of  any  other  tourist,  unless  he,  too,  was 
so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  letter  signed  "  Alicia 
W.,"  awaiting  his  arrival  at  the  Hotel  de  Rome. 

But  M.  d'Aspremont  had  no  eye  for  all  this. 
He  glanced  carelessly  at  the  limpid  sea  with 
its  myriads  of  islands — even  Capri,  Ischia, 
Nisida  and  Procida  failed  to  arouse  his 
enthusiasm.  His  eyes  were  seeking  that  lit- 
tle white  house,  surrounded  with  shrubbery, 
in  the  environs  of  Sorrento,  of  which  Alicia 
spoke  in  her  letter.  At  this  moment,  M. 


JRTTATURA.  23 

d'Aspremont's  countenance  had  nothing  of 
that  disagreeable  expression  which  character- 
ized it  when  he  was  displeased  ;  it  was  really 
handsome  and  sympathetic.  It  was  easy  to 
understand  that  this  person  of  distinction 
could  not  fail  to  please  a  young  English  miss, 
brought  up  by  an  indulgent  old  uncle. 

As  the  driver  urged  his  horses  to  do  their 
utmost,  it  did  not  take  long  to  pass  Chiaja 
and  Marinella,  and  the  carriage  soon  entered 
the  road  which  is  now  monopolized  by  the 
steam-cars.  A  thick,  black  dust,  not  unlike 
ground  charcoal,  gave  an  almost  plutonic 
aspect  to  this  part  of  the  beach,  which  is 
washed  by  the  blue  waters  of  the  gulf ;  it  is 
the  soot  of  Vesuvius,  sifted  by  the  wind,  which 
gives  this  dusky  appearance  to  the  sand  and 
causes  the  houses  of  Portici  and  Torre  del 
Greco  to  resemble  the  factories  of  Birming- 
ham. M.  d'Aspremont  heeded  not  the  con- 
trast between  the  ebony-hued  beach  and  the 
sapphire-colored  sky — he  was  in  a  hurry  to 
arrive  at  his  destination.  The  most  beautiful 
roads  are  tediously  long  when  Miss  Alicia  is 
awaiting  your  coming,  six  months  after  saying 
good-bye  on  the  jetty  at  Folkstone  :  the  sky 
and  the  sea  of  Naples  have  lost  their  charm — 
what  are  sky  and  sea  to  a  man  of  the  world, 
especially  when  the  woman  he  loves  awaits 
him  at  the  end  of  the  road. 


24  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

Finally,  the  carriage  enters  the  private 
road  which  leads  to  the  little  white  house  on 
the  hill.  A  sunburnt  servant,  with  closely 
matted  hair,  hurried  to  open  the  gate  at  the 
approach  of  the  carriage,  and,  preceding  M. 
d'Aspremont  in  a  path  bordered  on  either 
side  with  laurel-rose  bushes,  conducted  him 
to  the  terrace  where  Miss  Alicia  Ward  and 
her  uncle  were  sipping  their  afternoon  tea. 

Through  mere  caprice,  a  fault  pardonable 
in  a  young  girl  who  is  blaste  of  all  the  com- 
forts and  attractions  of  city  life — and  possi- 
bly also  to  tease  her  uncle — Miss  Alicia  had 
selected  this  villa  in  preference  to  any  of  the 
more  modern  dwellings  offered  for  rent.  Its 
owners  were  travelling  and  it  had  been  un- 
occupied for  several  years.  She  found  a  sort 
of  poetic  wildness  in  this  deserted  garden, 
which  had  almost  reverted  to  its  original 
state,  and  which,  owing  to  the  warm  climate, 
was  entirely  overrun  with  orange  trees,  myr- 
tle, geraniums,  and  citrons.  It  was  not  like  in 
the  North,  where  a  deserted  house  is  the  most 
dreary  object  imaginable,  but  the  wild  gaiety 
of  the  South  left  to  herself  ;  in  the  absence 
of  the  master,  the  exuberant  vegetation  was 
having  a  veritable  debauch  of  leaves,  flowers, 
fruits  and  perfume. 

When  the  Commodore — it  was  thus  that 
Alicia  called  her  uncle— first  saw  this  im- 


JETTATURA.  «5 

penetrable  thicket  through  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  effect  a  passage  without  a  lib- 
eral application  of  the  axe,  as  in  the  virgin 
forests  of  Central  America,  he  raised  his 
hands  to  Heaven  in  horror  and  declared  that 
his  niece  had  lost  her  senses.  But  Alicia 
promised  to  have  an  entrance  made  from  the 
gate  of  the  salon,  and  another  passage,  large 
enough  to  permit  of  the  entrance  of  a  barrel 
of  malmsey  wine,  from  the  salon  to  the 
terrace — but  this  was  the  only  concession 
she  would  accord  to  her  uncle.  The  Commo- 
dore, unable  to  resist  the  persuasions  of  his 
lovely  niece,  resigned  himself  to  his  fate,  and 
at  this  moment  he  was  seated  opposite  her  on 
the  terrace,  contentedly  sipping  a  big  tumbler 
of  rum,  which  the  servants,  in  their  innocence, 
mistook  for  English  breakfast  tea. 

As  M.  d'Aspremont  made  his  appearance 
on  the  terrace,  Alicia  sprang  to  her  feet  with 
a  little  cry  of  joyful  surprise  and  ran  up  to 
meet  him.  Paul  shook  her  warmly  by  the 
hand,  but  the  young  girl  suddenly  raised  the 
imprisoned  hand  to  the  height  of  her  friend's 
lips  with  a  little  movement  which  was  full  of 
playful  coquetry. 

After  a  desperate  effort,  the  Commodore 
finally  managed  to  raise  himself  on  his  gouty 
legs,  but  it  was  amusing  to  behold  the 
expression  of  joy  mingled  with  pain  which 


2  6  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRA  R  Y. 

spread  o'er  his  countenance  as  he  attempted 
to  walk.  However,  the  old  sailor  was  not  to 
be  daunted. 

Gritting  his  teeth,  he  stepped  boldly  for- 
ward, and  approaching  the  young  people, 
stretched  forth  his  hand  to  Paul  as  he  gave 
him  a  hearty  welcome. 

Miss  Alicia  Ward  was  one  of  those  charm- 
ing women  in  whom  the  commingling  of  the 
dark  and  blonde  types  produces  an  ideal 
beauty  ;  her  full  lips  were  red  as  cherries, 
while  her  shining  hair  was  dark  as  a  raven's 
wing,  in  direct  contrast  with  her  complex- 
ion, which  challenged  comparison  with  that 
"  whiteness  of  the  lily,  and  clearness  of 
alabaster"  in  which  a  poet  delights  when 
singing  the  praises  of  the  mistress  of  his 
heart.  The  effect  of  this  is  irresistible,  and 
produces  a  peculiar  style  of  beauty  not  to  be 
found  elsewhere. 

Perhaps  the  harems  of  the  East  contain 
fair  Circassians  of  a  like  complexion,  if  we 
can  believe  the  flowery  extravagance  of  East- 
ern poets,  or  the  aquarelles  of  Lewis,  repre- 
senting scenes  in  the  seraglio. 

Alicia  was  certainly  a  perfect  type  of  this 
class  of  beauty.  Her  oval  face,  pure  com- 
plexion, delicate  nose  and  transparent  nostrils, 
her  deep  blue  eyes  fringed  with  long,  dark 
lashes  which  hovered  on  her  cheeks  like 


JETTATURA.  27 

black  butterflies  when  she  lowered  her  eyes  ; 
her  hair  falling  in  brilliant  masses  like  satin 
ribbons  down  her  swan-like  neck,  and  cling- 
ing about  her  face,  proved  the  possibility  of 
Maclise's  romantic  figures  which  are  usually 
held  to  be  but  dreams. 

She  wore  a  dress  of  grenadine,  embroidered 
with  red  palm-leaves,  which  accorded  well 
with  the  strings  of  coral  ^vrhich  were  woven  in 
her  hair  and  encircled  her  throat  and  arms  ; 
from  her  delicate  shell-like  ears  hung  pen- 
dants formed  of  numerous  small  pieces  of 
coral  deftly  strung  together.  If  the  reader 
blame  this  abuse  of  coral,  remember  that  we 
are  in  Naples,  where  the  fishermen  go  down 
to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  only  to  find  these 
wonderful  branches  which  blush  like  a  maiden 
when  exposed  to  the  sunlight. 

After  the  portrait  of  Miss  Alicia  Ward,  we 
feel  obliged  to  give,  by  way  of  contrast,  a 
caricature,  a  la  Hogarth,  of  her  uncle,  the 
Commodore.  He  was  about  sixty  years  old, 
and  his  face  was  a  dark  purple,  contrasting 
strongly  with  his  white  eyebrows  and  mutton- 
chop  whiskers,  which  were  sharply  defined, 
and  gave  him  the  appearance  of  an  old  In- 
dian who  had  decorated  his  face  with  white 
paint.  The  warm  Italian  sun  had  still  fur- 
ther deepened  this  violet  color,  and  the 
Commodore  made  one  think  involuntarily 


28  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

of  a  large  burnt  almond  packed  in  cotton. 
He  was  dressed  from  top  to  toe  in  a  suit  of 
grayish-brown  tweed,  with  gaiters  to  match, 
which  his  tailor  had  assured  him,  on  his  word 
of  honor,  was  the  latest  and  most  fashionable 
color,  which  probably  was  true.  Notwith- 
standing his  inflamed  complexion  and  gro- 
tesque costume,  the  Commodore  looked 
above  the  common  herd.  His  scrupulous 
neatness,  noble  bearing  and  courtly  manners 
bespoke  the  perfect  gentleman,  although  he 
certainly  looked  like  one  of  the  caricatures  in 
Hoffman's  or  Levassar's  comedies.  His  only 
occupation  was  to  adore  his  niece  and  to 
drink  an  enormous  quantity  of  Jamaica  rum, 
to  preserve  the  radical  humidity,  after  the 
style  of  Corporal  Trim. 

"  See  how  well  I  am  looking  and  how 
pretty  I  am  !  Look  at  my  rosy  color — I  am 
not  as  red  as  uncle,  it  is  true,  but  then  I  never 
touch  Jamaica  rum  or  old  London  Dock — 
and  yet  my  cheeks  are  red,  most  decidedly 
red,"  exclaimed  Alicia,  as  she  tapped  her  face 
with  her  tapering,  well-shaped  finger  :  "  I 
have  grown  stout,  too,  and  there  are  no 
longer  any  of  those  horrid  circles  under  my 
eyes  like  there  used  to  be  when  I  wanted  to 
look  my  prettiest  at  a  ball.  I  say,  Paul,  I 
must  be  indeed  a  great  coquette  to  deprive 
myself  of  the  company  of  my  fianct  during 


JETTATURA.  29 

three  long  months,  so  that  he  will  find  me 
looking  all  the  fresher  and  prettier  after  the 
separation  ! 

And,  as  she  gave  vent  to  this  little  outburst 
of  feeling,  Alicia  stood  up  on  her  tip-toes  as 
if  to  provoke  Paul  and  defy  his  examination. 

"  Isn't  she  as  strong  and  hearty  as  those 
Procida  girls  who  carry  Grecian  amphoras  on 
their  heads  ? "  interrupted  the  Commodore. 

"  Pardon  me,  Commodore,"  answered 
Paul ;  "  Miss  Alicia  has  not  grown  prettier, 
that  would  be  impossible  ;  but  she  is  in  de- 
cidedly better  health  than  when  she  imposed 
this  cruel  separation  upon  me  out  of  mere 
caprice — or  coquetry,  as  she  pretends." 

And  he  turned  his  eyes  full  upon  the  young 
girl  who  stood  before  him. 

Suddenly,  the  rosy  hue,  of  which  but  a  mo- 
ment before  she  seemed  so  proud,  disap- 
peared from  Alicia's  cheeks,  and  she  carried 
her  hand  to  her  heart  with  a  movement  of  pain. 

Paul,  thoroughly  alarmed,  rose  to  his  feet; 
the  Commodore  did  likewise.  The  bright 
color  suddenly  reappeared  in  Alicia's  cheeks 
as  she  smilingly  remarked  : 

"  I  promised  you  a  cup  of  tea  or  a  sorbet, 
and,  although  English,  I  recommend  the  sor- 
bet. The  snow  is  preferable  to  hot  water  in 
this  clime,  where  the  African  sirocco  visits 
us  almost  daily." 


3°  ROM  A  N  7  '1C  LIBRA  R  Y. 

They  seated  themselves  around  the  little 
stone  table  ;  the  sun  had  sunk  beneath  the 
hojrizon,  and  the  soft  twilight  of  the  Neapoli 
tan  night  succeeded  the  glaring  light  of  day. 
The  rising  moon  gave  a  silvery  tint  to  the 
surrounding  foliage  ;  the  sea  broke  upon  the 
pebbly  beach  with  a  gentle  murmur,  and  in 
the  distance  the  beating  of  drums  could  be 
plainly  heard  as  the  guards  were  relieved 
for  the  night. 

At  last  they  were  obliged  to  part ;  Nice, 
the  fawn-colored  servant  with  the  matted 
hair,  conducted  Paul  to  the  gate,  lighting  the 
way  with  a  torch.  While  she  was  serving 
the  tea  and  the  sorbets  she  had  fastened  a 
look  of  curiosity,  mingled  with  fear,  on  the 
new  arrival.  No  doubt  the  result  of  her  ex- 
amination was  unfavorable  to  Paul,  for  Nice's 
brow,  yellow  as  a  cigar  already,  gathered  it- 
self up  into  innumerable  wrinkles,  and,  as  she 
accompanied  the  stranger,  she  secretly  pointed 
her  little  finger  at  him,  and  crossed  her  three 
other  fingers  over  her  thifrnb,  as  if  to  form 
some  cabalistic  sign. 


CHAPTER    III. 

PAUL  returned  to  the  Hotel  de  Rome  by 
the  same  road  ;  the  beauty  of  the  night  was 


JETTATURA.  31 

incomparable  ;  the  moon  reflected  her  silver 
rays  on  the  waves,  which,  as  they  broke  gently 
upon  the  beach,  seemed  to  burst  into  myriads 
of  glittering  sparks.  The  fishing-smacks, 
carrying  a  lighted  torch  in  the  prow,  skimmed 
over  the  surface  of  the  sea,  leaving  a  silvery 
trail  in  their  wake  ;  the  smoke  of  Vesuvius, 
white  in  the  daylight,  was  now  a  glistening 
column  of  fire  which  reflected  strangely  on 
the  waters  of  the  gulf. 

A  few  strolling  lazzaroni  were  reclining  on 
the  sands,  deeply  moved  without  knowing  it 
at  this  magical  spectacle,  as  they  gazed  long 
and  earnestly  into  the  limpid  waters  of  the 
bay.  Others,  seated  on  the  deck  of  a  bark 
at  anchor,  were  either  singing  an  air  from 
Lucia  or  the  romanza  so  popular  at  the  time  : 
"  Ti  voglio  ben'  assat,"  in  a  voice  of  which 
many  a  tenor  might  well  be  envious.  Naples, 
like  all  other  Southern  cities,  retires  late  ; 
however,  the  lights  in  the  windows  gradually 
disappeared,  one  by  one,  but  the  lottery  offices, 
with  their  garlands  of  paper  flowers  and  their 
favorite  numbers  gaily  illuminated,  were  still 
open  in  the  hope  that  the  few  passers-by 
would  come  in  and  put  a  few  carlins  or  a 
couple  of  ducats  on  some  pet  number  on 
their  way  home. 

Paul  went  right  to  bed,  and,  drawing  the 
mosquito  netting  tightly  about  him,  was  soon 


32  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

fast  asleep.  Like  most  travellers  after  a  sea 
voyage,  his  couch,  although  perfectly  station- 
ary, appeared  to  roll  and  plunge  as  if  the 
Hotel  de  Rome  had  been  the  Leopold,  Under 
this  impression  he  dreamed  that  he  was  still 
at  sea,  and  he  saw  Alicia  standing  on  the 
jetty,  pale  as  death,  alongside  of  her  red- 
faced  uncle,  who  was  making  desperate  signs 
for  him  not  to  come  ashore  ;  the  young  girl's 
face  expressed  profound  grief,  and  in  mo- 
tioning him  away  she  seemed  to  obey  a 
mysterious  impulse  in  spite  of  herself. 

Paul  now  awoke  with  a  start  ;  this  dream 
strangely  affected  him,  and  he  was  ashamed 
to  find  that  he  was  in  the  hotel  instead  of  at 
sea,  with  the  veilleuse  burning  brightly  along- 
side the  bed  and  attracting  all  the  mosqui- 
toes in  the  room.  In  order  not  to  fall  back 
into  this  painful  slumber,  Paul  struggled 
against  the  feeling  of  drowsiness  which  al- 
most overpowered  him,  and  began  to  recall 
his  courtship  of  Alicia. 

In  his  fancy  he  once  more  beheld  the  red- 
brick house,  covered  with  vines  of  honey- 
suckle and  lilac,  which  Alicia  and  her  uncle 
inhabited  in  Richmond,  when  he  met  them 
on  the  occasion  of  his  first  trip  to  England, 
having  presented  one  of  those  letters  of  in- 
troduction which  invariably  result  in  an  invi- 
tation to  dinner.  He  remembered  the  while 


JETTATURA.  33 

India  muslin  dress,  ornamented  with  a  simple 
ribbon  which  Alicia,  just  home  from  boarding- 
school,  wore  that  day,  and  the  branch  of 
jasmine  which  entwined  itself  in  her  coal- 
black  hair  like  a  flower  in  Ophelia's  crown  ; 
her  beautiful  blue  eyes  and  partly  opened 
lips,  exposing  a  row  of  enamelled  teeth.  He 
recalled  to  mind  the  deep  blush  which  rose 
to  her  cheeks  when  the  young  French  gentle- 
man's eyes  met  hers. 

The  parlor,  draped  in  sombre  green  and 
decorated  with  engravings  of  fox-hunts  and 
steeple-chases,  was  reproduced  in  his  mind 
as  in  a  camera  obscura.  The  piano  stretched 
forth  its  row  of  keys  like  the  teeth  in  the 
jaw  of  an  alligator  ;  the  mantelpiece,  decor- 
ated with  a  sprig  of  Irish  shamrock,  and  its 
highly  polished  grate;  the  old  oak  armchairs, 
the  carpet  strewn  with  roses,  and  Miss  Alicia, 
trembling  like  a  leaf,  singing  the  romanza 
from  Anna  Bolena,  "de/i,  non  -voter  costringere" 
most  delightfully  out  of  tune,  while  Paul  ac- 
companied her  on  the  piano,  and  the  Commo- 
dore, overcome  with  an  attack  of  indigestion 
and,  if  possible,  more  crimson  than  usual, 
dropped  the  colossal  supplement  of  the 
London  Times  as  he  fell  into  a  quiet  doze. 

Then  the  scene  changed.  Paul,  now  on 
most  intimate  terms,  hud  been  invited  by  the 
Commodore  to  visit  him  at  his  country  home 


34  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

in  Lincolnshire — an  old,  feudal  castle,  with 
crenellated  turrets  and  ivy-covered  Gothic 
windows,  but  furnished  in  the  most  approved 
modern  style.  It  rose  at  the  end  of  a  large, 
well-kept  lawn,  surrounded  by  a  gravel  path 
serving  as  a  riding  school  for  Miss  Alicia, 
who  rode  one  of  those  little  Shetland  ponies 
with  flowing  mane,  which  Sir  Edwin  Land- 
seer  loves  to  paint.  Paul,  mounted  on  a  gray 
hunter  kindly  loaned  him  by  the  Commodore, 
accompanied  Miss  Ward  on  her  daily  rides, 
as  the  doctor,  finding  her  somewhat  broken 
down  in  health,  had  recommended  plenty  of 
exercise. 

Again,  a  little  canoe  was  gliding  along  the 
lake,  displacing  the  water-lilies,  and  making 
the  kingfishers  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  Alicia 
rowed  while  Paul  held  the  tiller  ropes.  How 
beautiful  she  looked  in  her  straw  hat,  the 
golden  halo  of  the  noonday  sun  surrounding 
her  pretty  head! 

The  Commodore  remained  on  shore,  not 
on  account  of  his  dignity,  but  owing  to  his 
weight,  which  would  have  caused  the  little 
boat  to  founder  ;  he  awaited  the  arrival  of 
his  niece  on  the  embankment,  and  threw 
a  wrap  over  her  shoulders,  with  almost 
motherly  care,  for  fear  she  would  take  cold  ; 
then,  after  hauling  the  boat  up  high  and  dry, 
they  would  return  to  the  cottage  for  luncheon. 


JETTATURA.  35 

Alicia,  who  at  other  times  ate  no  more  than 
a  bird,  now  thoroughly  enjoyed  a  slice  of 
York  ham,  cut  thin  as  a  wafer,  while  she 
munched  away  at  her  hot  biscuits  without  ever 
giving  a  crumb  to  the  gold-fishes  which  dis- 
ported themselves  in  a  huge  globe  suspended 
by  a  chain  from  the  ceiling. 

But  those  happy  days  could  not  last  forever. 
Paul  postponed  his  departure  by  several  weeks, 
and  already  signs  of  fall  were  beginning  to 
make  their  appearance. 

Alicia  grew  pale  under  the  anxious  eye  of 
her  lover,  and  the  only  color  she  retained  were 
two  bright  spots  near  the  temples.  She  was 
subject  to  chills,  and  the  biggest  fire  was  not 
sufficient  to  warm  her.  The  doctor  finally 
decided,  as  a  last  resource,  that  Miss  Ward 
should  pass  the  winter  at  Pisa  and  the  spring 
in  Naples. 

Important  family  affairs  recalled  Paul  to 
France  ;  Alicia  and  the  Commodore  were 
ready  to  start  for  Italy,  and  the  separation 
took  place  at  Folkestone.  Not  a  word  on 
the  subject  had  been  spoken,  but  Miss  Ward 
looked  upon  Paul  as  her  betrothed,  and  the 
Commodore  had  pressed  the  young  man's 
hands  significantly  ;  one  only  squeezes  the 
hand  of  a  son-in-law  in  so  forcible  a  manner. 

After  an  absence  of  six  months,  Paul  was 
overjoyed  to  find  Alicia  looking  strong  and 


36  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

healthy.  The  young  girl  was  now  a  young 
woman,  and  he  reasoned  that  the  Commodore 
could  not  offer  any  objection  when  he  asked 
for  the  hand  of  his  niece  in  marriage. 

Rocked  to  sleep  with  these  pleasant 
thoughts  he  dropped  off  into  a  gentle  slum- 
ber, from  which  he  was  aroused  only  at  day- 
break. Naples  had  already  begun  her  noisy 
clatter :  the  venders  of  iced-water  were  crying 
out  their  wares  for  sale  ;  the  cooks  offered 
the  passers-by  tempting  morsels  of  roast 
beef  for  a  mere  song,  while  the  lazy  house- 
wives were  lowering  down  their  baskets  by  the 
aid  of  a  string,  which  they  hauled  up  a  mo- 
ment later  filled  with  tomatoes,  fish,  and  large 
pieces  of  pumpkin.  The  notaries,  dressed 
in  seedy  black,  seated  themselves  at  their 
stands  as  they  placed  their  pen  behind  their 
ears  ;  the  money  changers  displayed  little 
piles  of  gold  and  silver  on  their  tables  ;  while 
the  coachmen  galloped  their  living  bone-yards, 
soliciting  an  early  patronage  as  the  bells  in  all 
the  steeples  merrily  chimed  out  the  Angelus. 

Our  traveller,  enveloped  in  his  dressing- 
gown,  leaned  out  of  the  window  ;  from  there 
he  could  plainly  see  Santa-Lucia  and  the 
fortress  of  CEuf,  while  an  immense  stretch  of 
sea,  reaching  from  Vesuvius  to  the  huge 
promontory  of  Castellamare  and  the  villas  of 
Sorrento,  unrolled  itself  before  his  eyes. 


JETTATURA.  37 

The  sky  was  clear,  but  a  white  cloud  was 
rapidly  approaching  the  city,  impelled  by  a 
gentle  breeze.  As  Paul  fixed  his  eyes  upon 
this  cloud,  that  peculiar  expression  came  over 
his  face,  and  his  eyebrows  contracted  as  the 
frown  grew  more  pronounced.  Other  vapors 
joined  this  single  cloud,  and  soon  a  heavy 
curtain  hung  over  the  Chateau  of  Saint  Elmo. 
Large  drops  began  to  fall  on  the  lava  pave- 
ment, and  soon  one  of  those  terrific  rain 
storms  for  which  Naples  is  noted  burst  upon 
the  city,  carrying  dogs  and  even  donkeys 
into  the  sewers  before  it.  The  crowd,  taken 
by  surprise,  dispersed,  seeking  shelter  where- 
ever  they  could  find  it  ;  the  open-air  stores 
shut  up  shop  in  no  time,  and  the  rain,  now 
mistress  of  the  situation,  swept  across  the 
quay  of  Santa  Lucia  from  end  to  end. 

The  gigantic  facchino  to  whom  Paddy  had 
applied  such  a  vigorous  thrashing  was  lean- 
ing against  the  column  of  a  building,  directly 
opposite  the  window  at  which  Paul  d'Aspre- 
mont  was  standing. 

As  he  caught  sight  of  the  face  at  the  window 
the  Neapolitan  muttered  in  an  irritated  tone  : 

"  The  captain  of  the  Leopold  would  have 
done  well  to  throw  that  unbeliever  overboard," 
and,  passing  his  hand  under  his  coarse  linen 
blouse,  he  touched  a  bunch  of  amulets  which 
was  suspended  around  his  neck. 


ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  sun  soon  shone  forth  brightly,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  the  streets  were  dry 
and  filled  with  people.  But  Timberio,  the 
porter,  nevertheless  retained  the  opinion  he 
had  formed  regarding  the  young  Frenchman, 
and  he  prudently  withdrew  out  of  range  of 
the  window :  some  of  the  other  lazzaroni 
evinced  their  surprise  that  he  should  abandon 
such  an  excellent  station. 

"  Whoever  wants  the  place  is  welcome  to 
it,"  he  replied,  as  he  shook  his  head  in  a  mys- 
terious manner.  "  I  know  what  I  am  talking 
about." 

Paul  breakfasted  in  his  room  ;  whether  he 
was  bashful,  or  whether  it  was  because  he  dis- 
liked to  be  among  strangers,  he  never  took 
his  meals  in  public.  Then  he  dressed  himself 
and,  in  awaiting  the  hour  for  his  call  on  Miss 
Ward,  he  visited  the  Museum  of  Studj  :  in  an 
absent-minded  way  he  admired  the  precious 
collection  of  antique  vases,  bronzes  unearthed 
among  the  ruins  of  Pompeii,  the  helmet  of 
Grecian  brass,  all  covered  with  verdigris, 
in  which  reposed  the  head  of  the  soldier  who 
wore  it  ages  ago,  the  bit  of  hardened  earth 
retaining,  as  in  a  cast,  the  impression  of  the 
figure  of  a  young  woman  surprised  by  the 


JETTATURA.  39 

eruption  in  the  summer  residence  of  Arrius 
Diomedes,  and  the  beautiful  statue  of  Aris- 
tides,  the  choicest  and  possibly  the  most  per- 
fect morsel  left  us  of  a  forgotten  era.  But  a 
lover  is  not  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  art  ; 
in  his  eyes  the  profile  of  the  adored  one  is 
worth  more  than  all  the  Greek  and  Roman 
statues  in  the  world. 

After  whiling  away  two  or  three  hours  at 
the  Studj,  he  entered  a  carriage  and  directed 
the  driver  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  little 
villa  near  Sorrento  where  Miss  Ward  resided. 
The  driver,  with  the  intelligence  which  char- 
acterizes all  Southern  people,  divined  that  the 
gentleman  was  in  a  hurry,  so  whipping  up  his 
tired  horses  he  soon  drove  up  to  the  villa. 
The  same  servant  opened  the  gate.  She  was 
dressed  as  before,  with  the  exception  that  her 
legs  were  entirely  devoid  of  covering  and  that 
a  little  bunch  of  horns  and  coral  charms  was 
suspended  around  her  neck. 

Miss  Alicia  was  reclining  in  an  Indian  ham- 
mock on  the  terrace,  dressed  in  a  light  china- 
silk  wrapper.  Her  feet,  which  were  plainly 
visible^through  the  netting  of  the  hammock, 
were  encased  in  a  pair  of  loose  sandals,  and 
her  bare  arms  were  crossed  above  her  head, 
in  Cleopatra's  favorite  attitude. 

The  Commodore,  dressed  in  a  suit  of  white 
duck,  was  seated  in  a  bamboo  chair,  and  from 


4°  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

time  to  time  he  pulled  the  rope  which  set  the 
hammock  in  motion. 

A  third  personage  completed  the  group:  it 
was  the  Comte  d'Altavilla,  a  young  and  ele- 
gant Neapolitan,  whose  presence  brought  to 
Paul's  face  that  peculiar  contraction  of  the 
features  which  gave  it  such  a  diabolical  ex- 
pression. 

In  fact,  the  Comte  was  one  of  those  men 
one  does  not  care  to  see  beside  his  lady- 
love. He  was  unusually  tall,  although  splen- 
didly proportioned  ;  his  hair  was  as  black  as 
jet,  and  was  arranged  in  graceful  curls  around 
the  temples;  a  spark  of  Southern  fire  scintil- 
lated in  his  eyes  ;  and  his  large,  white  teeth 
appeared  still  whiter  owing  to  his  red  lips 
and  the  dark  olive  color  of  his  complexion. 
The  only  fault  a  critic  could  possibly  have 
brought  to  bear  against  the  Comte  was  that 
he  was  too  handsome. 

As  to  his  clothes,  d'Altavilla  had  them  all  im- 
ported from  London,  and  the  most  pronounced 
dandy  would  have  approved  of  his  attire. 
There  was  nothing  at  all  Italian  in  his  dress 
with  the  exception  of  his  shirt-studs,  which 
were  of  great  value.  Here  the  love  of  all  sons 
of  the  South  for  jewelry  betrayed  itself.  He 
also  wore  a  little  bunch  of  coral  charms  on  his 
watch-chain,  but  a  tour  of  inspection  among 
the  promenaders  in  the  Rue  de  Tolede  or  at 


JETTATURA.  4* 

the  Villa  Reale  would  have  sufficed  to  con- 
vince the  most  incredulous  that  there  was 
nothing  at  all  eccentric  about  him. 

As  Paul  d'Aspremont  entered,  the  Comte, 
at  Miss  Ward's  urgent  request,  was  singing 
some  delightful  Neapolitan  melodies.  Those 
who  have  not  heard  one  of  these  charming 
romanzas  of  Gordigiani's,  as  sung  by  a  laz- 
zarone  at  Chiaja,  or  a  sailor  on  the  jetty,  as 
he  returns  from  his  work,  have  missed  the 
breath  of  a  lifetime.  They  are  composed  of  a 
breath  of  air,  of  a  ray  of  moonshine,  of  the 
perfume  of  an  orange-grove,  and  of  the  throb- 
bing of  a  heart. 

Alicia,  with  her  pretty  English  voice,  a 
trifle  out  of  tune,  hummed  the  air  which  she 
wished  to  remember,  as  she  nodded  a  wel- 
come to  Paul,  who  was  looking  at  her  in  any- 
thing but  a  pleasant  manner,  being  annoyed 
at  the  presence  of  this  handsome  young  man. 

One  of  the  ropes  of  the  hammock  suddenly 
parted,  and  Miss  Ward  slipped  to  the  ground, 
without  injuring  herself,  however.  Six  ready 
hands  were  simultaneously  extended  toward 
her,  but  the  young  girl  was  already  on  her 
feet,  blushing  furiously,  for  it  is  considered 
improper  for  a  woman  to  fall  in  the  presence 
of  men. 

"  I  can't  understand  it ;  I  tried  every  one 
of  those  ropes  myself,"  exclaimed  the  Com- 


42  ROMA NTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

modore,  "  and  Miss  Ward  doesn't  weigh  any 
more  than  a  humming  bird." 

The  Comte  d'Altavilla  shook  his  head  in  a 
mysterious  manner :  in  the  breaking  of  the 
rope  he  evidently  saw  another  reason  besides 
weight ;  but,  man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  he 
kept  his  opinion  to  himself,  while  he  care- 
lessly toyed  with  the  charms  on  his  watch 
chain. 

Like  all  men  who  become  surly  and  dis- 
agreeable in  the  presence  of  a  rival  whom 
they  consider  worthy  of  their  steel,  instead  of 
assuming  to  be  all  grace  and  amiability,  Paul 
d'Aspremont,  although  well  versed  in  the  cus- 
toms of  polite  society,  did  not  succeed  in 
concealing  his  ill-humor  ;  he  only  replied  by 
monosyllables,  permitting  the  conversation  to 
drag,  and  whenever  he  glanced  towards  d'Al- 
tavilla his  eyes  assumed  their  peculiar  expres- 
sion ;  the  yellow  fibres  shot  forth  beneath 
the  gray  transparency  of  his  eyeballs  like  so 
many  water-snakes  in  the  bottom  of  a  well. 

Every  time  that  Paul  looked  at  him  thus, 
the  Comte,  seemingly  by  a  mechanical  move- 
ment, plucked  a  flower  from  the  jardiniere 
and  flung  it  from  him  so  as  to  ward  off  the 
magnetism  of  the  former's  angry  glance. 

"What  ails  you  that  you  should  vent  your 
spite  on  my  jardiniere  ? "  exclaimed  Miss 
Ward,  as  she  suddenly  noticed  the  number  of 


JETTATURA.  43 

plants  the  Comte  had  destroyed.  "What 
have  my  flowers  done  to  you  that  you  should 
wage  war  upon  them  ? " 

"  Oh  !  it  is  nothing,  Miss  Alicia  ;  merely  a 
nervous  tic,"  replied  d'Altavilla,  as  he  decapi- 
tated a  superb  rose  with  his  finger-nail  and 
sent  it  to  join  the  other  flowers  on  the  terrace. 

"  Well,  then,  you  annoy  me  very  much," 
said  Alicia  ;  "  and  without  knowing  it,  you 
have  upset  one  of  my  pet  theories.  I  have 
never  plucked  a  flower  in  all  my  life.  Bou- 
quets inspire  me  with  a  feeling  of  horror  :  to 
me  they  are  dead  flowers,  mere  cadavers  of 
roses,  full  of  worms  and  periwinkles,  and  the 
odor  of  which  has  something  positively  sepul- 
chral." 

"  To  atone  for  the  murder  I  have  just  com- 
mitted," said  the  Comte  d'Altavilla,  bowing 
politely,  "  I  will  send  you  a  hundred  baskets 
of  flowers  in  full  bloom." 

Paul  had  risen  ;  he  toyed  with  his  hat  as  if 
he  contemplated  taking  his  departure. 

"  What !  going  already  ? "  exclaimed  Miss 
Ward. 

"  1  have  some  letters  to  write — some  very 
important  letters." 

"  Oh  !  what  a  story  !  "  remarked  the  young 
girl  with  a  pretty  pout ;  "  how  can  you  have 
important  letters  to  write  when  I  am  here  to 
listen  to  what  you  have  to  say  in  person  ? " 


44  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

"Why  don't  you  stay,  Paul?"  put  in  the 
Commodore ;  "  I  had  arranged  a  little  pro- 
gramme for  this  evening,  and  I  only  await  the 
sanction  of  my  niece  to  put  it  into  execution  : 
in  the  first  place  we  would  go  to  the  fountain 
of  Santa-Lucia,  where  we  would  have  partaken 
of  a  glass  of  water  which  smells  of  rotten 
eggs,  but  which  is  a  great  appetizer,  never- 
theless ;  then  we  would  have  eaten  a  dozen  or 
two  of  white  and  pink  oysters,  at  the  fish- 
market,  dined  under  a  vine  arbor  in  some 
Neapolitan  tavern,  drunk  chianti  and  lac- 
ryma-christi,  and  wound  up  the  evening  with 
a  visit  to  Seigneur  Pulcinella.  The  Comte 
would  have  explained  all  the  jokes  and  the 
native  dialect." 

This  proposition  evidently  did  not  please 
M.  d'Aspremont,  and  he  retired  after  bowing 
coldly. 

D'Altavilla  remained  a  few  moments  Iqnger: 
and  as  Miss  Ward,  vexed  at  Paul's  sudden 
departure,  did  not  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the 
excursion  proposed  by  the  Commodore,  he 
also  took  his  leave. 

Two  hours  later  Miss  Alicia  received  a 
large  number  of  rare  plants,  but  what  sur- 
prised her  most  was  an  enormous  pair  of 
Sicilian  bull's  horns,  transparent  as  amber, 
and  polished  like  agate,  measuring  at  least 
three  feet,  and  tipped  at  the  ends  with  threat- 


JETTATURA.  45 

ening  black  points.  A  magnificent  gilt  bronze 
shield  accompanied  the  horns,  evidently  de- 
signed to  support  them. 

Vice,  who  had  assisted  the  porters  to  un- 
pack the  flowers  and  the  horns,  seemed  to 
understand  the  motive  which  prompted  the 
Comte  to  make  such  a  strange  gift. 

She  placed  them  on  the  stone  table  and,  as 
they  rested  there,  one  might  well  have  sup- 
posed that  they  had  been  torn  from  the  front 
of  the  divine  bull  which  carried  Europa  on 
his  mighty  head.  Then,  after  a  long  and 
silent  contemplation,  she  remarked  : 

"  We  are  now  prepared  to  defend  our- 
selves at  least." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Vice  ? "  questioned 
Miss  Ward. 

"  Nothing — but  the  French  signer  has  very 
strange  eyes  !  " 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  hour  for  dinner  had  long  since  passed, 
and  the  fires  of  hot  coals,  which,  during  the 
day,  make  a  miniature  Vesuvius  in  the  kitchen 
of  the  Hotel  de  Rome,  were  slowly  dying  out; 
the  pots  and  the  pans  had  resumed  their 
places  on  their  respective  nails,  and  shone  in 
the  semi-darkness  like  so  many  ancient  breast- 


4<>  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

plates ;  a  copper  lamp,  not  unlike  those  un- 
earthed at  Pompeii,  was  suspended  from  the 
main  rafter  of  the  room  by  a  triple  chain,  its 
three  wicks  lighting  up  the  centre  of  the 
kitchen,  the  remainder  being  plunged  in  total 
darkness. 

Its  dull  rays  illuminated  the  countenances 
of  an  ill-assorted  group — a  group  which  would 
have  furnished  plenty  of  material  for  the 
brushes  of  an  Espagnolet  or  a  Salvator  Rosa 
as  it  sat  there  in  the  semi-darkness  around 
the  chopped-up  table.  In  the  first  place  there 
was  the  chef,  Virgilio  Falsacappa,  a  very  im- 
portant personage — in  his  own  estimation. 
He  was  of  gigantic  stature  and  formidable 
embonpoint  j  in  fact,  he  might  have  passed  for 
one  of  the  guests  at  Vitellius'  banquet,  if  he 
had  been  attired  in  a  Roman  toga  instead  of 
a  white  apron.  His  features  were  strongly 
marked  and  resembled  the  profile  of  those 
curious  heads  stamped  on  ancient  coins  ; 
coarse,  black  eyebrows,  half  an  inch  thick,  sur- 
mounted a  pair  of  almond-shaped  eyes ;  an 
enormous  nose  cast  its  shadow  o'er  a  tre- 
mendous mouth,  resembling  the  jaw  of  a 
shark  with  its  double  row  of  large  teeth. 
Bunchy  side-whiskers  encircled  his  dark  vis- 
age, while  his  glossy,  black  hair,  tinged  with 
a  few  silver  threads,  fell  in  short  ringlets  on 
his  colossal  and  bloated  neck.  His  jaw 


JETTATURA.  47 

seemed  capable  of  crunching  the  bones  of  an 
ox,  and  the  silver  crescents  he  wore  in  his 
ears  were  as  large  as  a  new  moon.  This  is 
master  Virgilio  Falsacappa,  who,  with  his 
apron  tucked  under  his  belt  and  his  knife 
plunged  in  a  wooden  sheath,  resembled  an 
old-time  victimarius  far  more  than  a  modern 
chef. 

Then  there  was  Timberio,  the  porter,  who 
was  in  a  state  of  extreme  emaciation,  thanks 
to  his  gymnastic  calling  and  to  the  frugal 
diet  of  a  handful  of  half-cooked  macaroni, 
seasoned  with  cacio-cavallo,  a  slice  of  water- 
melon and  a  glass  of  snow  water,  which  were 
the  only  victuals  his  meagre  purse  would  al- 
low. Had  he  received  proper  nourishment 
there  is  no  doubt  he  would  have  equalled  in 
size,  if  not  in  embonpoint,  Virgilio  Falsacappa. 
The  only  garments  he  wore  were  a  pair  of 
linen  drawers,  a  long  calico  waistcoat,  and  a 
coarse  cloak  which  was  thrown  across  his 
shoulders  in  a  careless  manner. 

Scazziga,  the  proud  owner  of  the  carriage 
M.  Paul  d'Aspremont  had  hired  to  go  to 
Sorrento,  was  leaning  against  the  table  ;  he, 
too,  presented  a  striking  appearance  :  his  ir- 
regular features  wore  a  cunning  expression, 
and  a  sarcastic  smile  was  constantly  playing 
about  his  lips.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  he 
had  been  thrown  in  contact  with  people  of 


48  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

more  or  less  distinction,  for  his  every  move- 
ment was  an  imitation  of  the  gestures  and 
mannerisms  he  had  noted  among  his  supe- 
riors. His  clothing,  purchased  in  some 
second-hand  store,  consisted  of  a  semi-livery, 
semi-civilian  attire,  of  which  he  was  very 
proud,  and  which,  in  his  opinion,  was  not  to 
be  compared  with  Timberio's  cheap  get-up  ; 
his  conversation  was  replete  with  English 
and  French  words  which  at  times  failed  to 
express  the  meaning  of  what  he  wished  to 
convey,  but  which  raised  him  high  in  the  es- 
timation of  the  kitchen  maids  and  the  pot- 
boys, who  were  surprised  at  such  a  wonderful 
display  of  knowledge. 

Two  young  servants,  whose  features  re- 
called that  type  of  beauty  so  common  on  Syr- 
acusan  moneys,  were  standing  a  little  in  the 
rear — low  forehead,  commingling  with  the 
brow,  rather  thick  lips,  strong  and  well-defined 
chin  ;  the  braids  of  bluish-black  hair  being 
fastened  into  a  heavy  coil,  pierced  with  coral- 
mounted  pins,  while  three  rows  of  coral  beads 
encircled  their  muscular  necks.  A  dandy 
would  have  scorned  to  notice  these  poor  girls 
whose  red  Grecian  blood  was  free  of  all  for- 
eign taint,  but  an  artist  would  have  pulled 
out  his  sketch-book  and  sharpened  his  pencil 
with  alacrity. 

Have  you  ever  seen  that  picture  by  Muril- 


JETTATURA.  49 

lo  in  Marechal  Soult's  gallery,  representing 
a  group  of  little  cupids  as  they  disport  them- 
selves about  the  kitchen  fire  ?  For  if  you 
have,  it  will  spare  us  the  trouble  of  painting 
the  heads  of  the  three  or  four  curly-headed 
pot-boys  who  completed  the  group. 

This  trio,  surrounded  by  the  pot-boys  and 
the  scullion  maids,  were  discussing  a  serious 
question.  They  were  talking  of  M.  Paul 
d' Aspremont,  the  young  French  traveller,  who 
had  arrived  by  the  last  steamer.  Those  in 
the  kitchen  considered  it  their  duty  to  criticise 
their  betters. 

Timberio  had  the  floor,  and  he  rested  be- 
tween every  sentence  to  note  the  effect  pro- 
duced on  his  audience. 

"  Now  I  want  you  to  carefully  note  what  I 
have  to  say,"  began  the  orator  ;  "  the  Leopold 
is  an  honest  craft,  flying  the  flag  of  Tuscany. 
The  only  fault  to  be  found  against  her  is  that 
she  transports  too  many  English  heretics — " 

"  The  English  heretics  pay  well,  however," 
interrupted  Scazziga,  who  had  received  many 
a  tip  from  the  British  tourists. 

"  Undoubtedly  ;  but  then  the  best  thing  a 
heretic  can  do  is  to  pay  a  Christian  liberally 
to  compensate  him  for  the  disgrace  of  serv- 
ing an  unbeliever." 

"  I  don't  consider  it  a  disgrace  at  all  to 
drive  a  heretic  in  my  carriage  ;  I  don't  make 


50  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR Y. 

a  pack-horse  of  myself  like  you,  Timberio,  any 
way." 

"Was  I  not  baptized  just  the  same  as 
you?"  retorted  the  porter, 'with  an  angry 
scowl  as  he  doubled  up  his  fists. 

"  Let  Timberio  have  his  say  !  "  cried  out 
the  others  as  in  one  voice,  fearing  that  these 
personal  recriminations  would  wind  up  in  a 
scuffle. 

"You  will  agree,"  continued  the  orator, 
thoroughly  pacified  as  he  knew  popular  fa- 
vor was  on  his  side,  "  that  the  weather  was 
superb  when  the  Leopold  entered  port  ?  " 

"  We  admit  all  that,  Timberio,"  remarked 
the  chef,  as  he  waved  his  hand  majestically  in 
token  of  acquiescence. 

"  The  sea  was  as  smooth  as  glass,"  con- 
tinued the  facchino,  "and  yet  an  enormous 
wave  suddenly  came  up  and  upset  Gennaro's 
bark,  spilling  the  captain  and  three  of  his 
men  into  the  water.  Now,  I  ask  you,  is  this 
natural  ?  Gennaro  is  a  regular  sea-dog  ;  he 
could  dance  the  tarentella  on  the  crest  of  a 
wave  without  a  balancing  pole,  and  yet  his 
bark  is  upset  in  a  dead  calm." 

"  He  may  have  drunk  a  flask  of  asprimo 
too  much,"  objected  Scazziga,  the  rationalist 
of  the  assembly. 

"  Not  even  a  glass  of  lemonade,"  Tim- 
berio hastened  to  reply  ;  "  but  a  gentleman 


JETTATURA.  51 

on  board  the  steamer  looked  at  him  in  a 
peculiar  manner — do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  perfectly  !  "  replied  the  chorus,  ex- 
tending their  middle  and  little  fingers  as  if 
moved  by  a  string. 

"  And  this  gentlemen,"  added  Timberio, 
"  was  no  other  but  M.  Paul  d'Aspremont." 

"The  guest  who  occupies  number  3?" 
inquired  the  chef ;  "  the  one  who  takes  his 
meals  in  his  room  ?  " 

"  Precisely,"  replied  the  youngest  and  the 
prettiest  of  the  servants  ;  "  I  have  never  seen 
such  a  disagreeable  or  such  a  surly  traveller 
before  ;  he  would  not  even  give  me  a  look, 
or  say  a  single  word,  and  yet  all  the  tourists 
who  stop  here  say  I  deserve  a  compliment 
even  if  I  do  not  deserve  a  tip." 

"  You  deserve  more  than  that,  Gelsomina, 
my  love,"  gallantly  remarked  Timberio  :  "but 
it  is  fortunate  indeed  that  the  stranger  did 
not  notice  you." 

"  How  superstitious  you  are,  to  be  sure," 
objected  Scazziga,  whom  constant  association 
with  foreigners  had  made  more  or  less 
sceptical. 

"  If  you  keep  on  associating  with  heretics 
you  will  wind  up  by  no  longer  believing  in 
Saint  Januarius  himself." 

"  If  Gennaro  was  so  clumsy  as  to  fall  over- 
board, that  is  no  reason  why  M.  Paul  d'As- 


5  2  ROMANTIC  LIBRA R  Y. 

premont  should  possess  the  evil  influence  you 
attribute  to  him,"  continued  Scazziga,  defend- 
ing his  customer. 

"  I  will  give  you  other  proofs  :  this  morn- 
ing I  saw  him  standing  near  the  window,  his 
eye  fixed  on  a  little  cloud  no  larger  than  Gel- 
somina's  cap,  and  a  moment  later  a  mass  of 
thick  vapors  gathered  over  the  city  and  the 
rain  came  down  so  hard  that  the  dogs  could 
drink  out  of  the  gutter  without  stooping." 

Scazziga  was  as  doubtful  as  ever,  and  he 
shook  his  head  as  if  to  say  that  he  didn't 
credit  Timberio's  idle  fears  in  the  least. 

"  Besides,  the  valet  is  not  worth  any  more 
than  the  master,"  continued  the  latter  ;  "  and 
I  am  sure  the  little  hump-backed  monkey 
must  be  in  league  with  the  devil  to  be  able 
to  overthrow  me  —  Timberio  —  who  could 
knock  him  over  with  the  flat  of  my  hand  !  " 

"  I  share  Timberio's  opinions,"  chimed  in 
the  chef  in  a  patronizing  sort  of  way  ;  "  the 
stranger  eats  but  little  ;  he  sent  back  some 
fried  chicken  and  some  macaroni  I  had  pre- 
pared with  my  own  hands  !  Some  mysterious 
secret  is  hidden  beneath  this  abstinence. 
Why  should  a  rich  man  deprive  himself  of 
the  good  things  of  this  world  in  order  to  par- 
take of  a  bouillon  and  a  slice  of  cold  meat  ?  " 

"  He  has  red  hair,"  said  Gelsomina,  as  she 
passed  her  hand  through  her  long  curls. 


JETTATURA.  S3 

"  And  projecting  eyes,"  added  Pepina,  the 
other  servant. 

"  Very  close  to  his  nose,"  insisted  Timberio. 

"  And  the  wrinkle  which  assumes  the  form 
of  a  horse-shoe  between  his  eye-glasses,"  re- 
marked the  formidable  Virgilio  Falsacappa  ; 
"  therefore  he  is  a — " 

"  Do  not  pronounce  the  name,  it  is  un- 
necessary," they  all  exclaimed  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Scazziga ;  "  we  will  be  on  our 
guard." 

"  It  makes  my  blood  boil  when  I  think  that 
the  police  would  arrest  me  if,  by  accident,  I 
let  a  three-hundred-pound  trunk  fall  on  the 
head  of  this  unbeliever — of  this  forerunner  of 
danger,"  raved  Timberio,  bringing  his  fist 
down  upon  the  table  in  his  rage. 

"  Scazziga  must  be  plucky  to  drive  him," 
now  ventured  Gelsomina. 

"  I  am  on  my  box,  he  can  only  see  my  back, 
so  his  eyes  can't  fix  themselves  upon  mine  in 
the  right  angle.  Besides,  I  don't  bother  my 
head  about  all  this  humbug  !  " 

"  You  have  no  faith,  Scazziga,"  said  Pal- 
forio,  the  colossal  pastry-cook  ;  "  "  you  will 
come  to  a  bad  end." 

While  he  was  thus  being  discussed  in  the 
kitchen  of  the  Hotel  de  Rome,  Paul,  whom 
the  presence  of  the  Comte  d'Altavilla  at  Miss 
Ward's  had  put  in  a  bad  humor,  had  gone  for 


54  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

a  stroll  in  the  Villa  Reale;  and  the  wrinkle 
in  his  forehead  grew  larger  and  his  eyes  as- 
sumed their  queer  expression  more  than  once 
as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  lava  pavement. 
At  one  moment  he  thought  he  saw  Alicia  and 
the  Comte  driving  by  in  a  carriage;  he  rushed 
up  to  the  vehicle  and  peered  through  the 
open  window,  but  it  was  not  Alicia — only  a 
woman  who  resembled  her  slightly  at  a  dis- 
tance. However,  the  horses,  taking  fright 
at  Paul's  sudden  appearance,  ran  off,  almost 
upsetting  the  carriage. 

Paul  took  an  ice  in  the  Cafe"  de  1' Europe  : 
a  number  of  persons  examined  him  atten- 
tively and  then  changed  their  seats,  nodding 
their  heads  in  a  knowing  manner. 

He  entered  the  theatre  of  Pulcinella,  where 
they  were  giving  a  tutio  da  rider e.  The  prin- 
cipal actor  forgot  his  lines  ;  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  however,  he  went  on  with  his  part ; 
but  in  the  last  act  of  the  pantomime  his  false 
nose  fell  off,  and,  when  he  attempted  to 
apologize  and  explain  the  cause  of  his  mis- 
fortunes his  tongue  suddenly  refused  to  move, 
as  Paul's  eyes  fastened  themselves  upon  his 
and  deprived  him  of  the  power  of  speech. 

Those  who  were  seated  near  Paul  rose  in  a 
body  and  changed  their  stalls.  M.  d'Aspre- 
mont  rose  to  go,  without  having  noticed  the 
strange  effect  his  .  presence  had  produced  ; 


JETTATURA.  55 

while   in  the  lobby  he  heard  the  spectators 
whisper  to  one  another  as  he  passed  by  : 
"  A  jettatore  !     A  jettatore  !  " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  day  after  he  had  sent  the  horns,  Comte 
d'Altaville  called  upon  Miss  Ward.  The 
young  girl  was  taking  afternoon  tea  in  com- 
pany with  her  uncle,  precisely  as  if  she  had 
been  in  a  red-brick  house  at  Ramsgate,  in- 
stead of  on  a  plastered  terrace  in  Naples, 
surrounded  by  cactus,  fig-trees  and  aloes. 
It  is  a  characteristic  peculiarity  of  the  Saxon 
race,  never  to  adapt  its  insular  habits  to 
novel  surroundings. 

The  Commodore  was  in  unusual  good 
humor.  By  means  of  a  chemical  apparatus  he 
had  succeeded  in  turning  out  a  cake  of  ice, 
and,  in  this  manner,  had  continued  to  keep 
his  butter  solid.  He  was  buttering  a  slice  of 
bread  with  great  gusto,  preparatory  to  trans- 
forming it  into  a  sandwich. 

After  the  formalities  of  a  first  greeting, 
Alicia,  unmindful  of  the  abrupt  manner  in 
which  it  was  done,  suddenly  changed  the 
conversation,  and  turning  towards  the  young 
Neapolitan  Comte,  asked  : 

"  What  is  the   significance  of  the  strange 


5  6  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

gift  which  accompanied  your  flowers  ?  Vice, 
my  servant,  pretends  that  it  is  a  talisman 
against  the  fascino;  but  this  is  all  the  satis- 
faction she  would  give  me." 

"  Vice  is  very  sensible,"  replied  the  Comte 
Altavilla,  bowing  politely. 

"  But  what  is  the  fascino?  "  continued  the 
young  lady  ;  "  I  am  not  very  well  acquainted 
with  your  African  superstitions — for  I  pre- 
sume the  word  designates  some  popular 
belief?" 

"  The  fascino  is  the  pernicious  influence 
exercised  by  those  who  possess — or  rather 
those  who  are  afflicted — with  the  evil  eye." 

"  Pardon  me,"  remarked  Miss  Ward,  "  but 
I  really  do  not  understand  you  ;  the  meaning 
of  the  evil  eye  is  as  mysterious  to  me  as  that  of 
fascino" 

"  I  will  attempt  to  explain  to  the  best  of 
my  ability,"  replied  d'Altavilla ;  "  but,  as  you 
are  sceptical  like  all  Englishwomen,  I  pre- 
sume you  will  at  once  jump  at  the  conclusion 
that  I  am  a  savage  and  that  my  clothes  con- 
ceal a  skin  tattooed  in  blue  and  red.  I  am, 
however,  perfectly  civilized  ;  I  was  educated 
in  Paris,  and  I  speak  both  French  and  Eng- 
lish ;  I  have  read  Voltaire  ;  I  believe  in  teleg- 
raphy, electricity  and  railroads  ;  I  eat  mac- 
aroni with  a  fork,  and  I  wear  three  different 
pairs  of  gloves  every  day." 


JETTATURA.  57 

The  Commodore,  who  was  busily  engaged 
in  buttering  his  second  sandwich,  was  now 
all  attention,  his  curiosity  having  been 
aroused  by  d'Altavilla's  strange  introduction. 

"  Now  that  you  have  showed  yourself  in 
your  true  colors,"  laughingly  remarked  Miss 
Ward,  "  I  would  be  sceptical  indeed  were  I 
to  suspect  you  of  barbarism.  But  that  which 
you  wish  to  explain  must  indeed  be  either 
very  terrible  or  very  ridiculous  or  you  would 
not  beat  about  the  bush  in  this  way — " 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  terrible,  and,  as  you  say 
very  ridiculous,"  continued  the  Comte  ;  "  and 
if  I  were  in  Paris  or  London  I  might  possibly 
share  your  mirth  and  laugh  with  you,  but 
here,  in  Naples — " 

"  It  is  far  more  serious  ;  and,  I  suppose, 
you  cannot  even  smile  ?  " 

"  Precisely." 

"  Then  kindly  enlighten  me  as  to  the 
meaning  of  fascino"  said  Miss  Ward,  who 
was  impressed  by  the  Neapolitan's  deter- 
mined manner. 

"  This  superstition  is  as  old  as  the  world.  It 
is  alluded  to  in  the  Bible  ;  Virgil  speaks  of  it 
in  most  decided  terms,  and  the  bronze  medals 
found  at  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum,  and  the 
unmistakable  signs  on  the  walls  of  the  un- 
earthed houses  clearly  prove  how  universal  this 
superstition  was.  The  people  of  the  East  still 


$8  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

believe  in  it  at  the  present  day.  Red  and  green 
bands  are  painted  on  the  side  of  Moorish  build- 
ings in  order  to  protect  the  inhabitants  from 
the  evil  spirit.  A  sculptured  hand  is  plainly 
seen  on  the  door  of  Judgment  of  the  Alhambra. 
All  this  certainly  denotes  the  antiquity  of  the 
superstition,  even  if  it  has  no  fonndation. 
When  millions  of  men  have  shared  this 
opinion  during  thousands  of  years,  it  stands 
to  reason  that  such  a  general  belief  must  be 
founded  on  actual  facts  and  a  succession  of 
actual  events.  I  scarcely  imagine  that  the 
eminent  savants  who  have  written  treatises 
on  the  subject,  would  have  made  known 
their  opinions  to  the  world  unless  they  had 
positive  facts  with  which  to  prove  their  as- 
sertions." 

"  Your  argument  is  certainly  open  to  criti- 
cism," interrupted  Miss  Ward  ;  "  for  polythe- 
ism was  Homer's,  Plato's,  Aristotle's  and 
Socrates'  religion.  The  latter  even  went  so 
far  as  to  sacrifice  a  rooster  to  Esculapius." 

"  I  admit  all  that,  but  at  the  present  time 
no  one  sacrifices  bullocks  to  Jupiter." 

"  I  should  hope  not  !  "  interrupted  the 
Commodore  ;  "  they  are  sensible  enough  to 
serve  them  up  as  rump  and  beefsteaks,  in- 
stead of  wasting  them  upon  the  desert  air  !  " 

"  No  one  offers  doves  to  Venus,  peacocks 
to  Juno,  or  goats  to  Bacchus  ;  Christianity 


JETTATURA.  59 

has  replaced  the  poetic  dreams  of  Greek  my- 
thology ;  truth  has  triumphed  over  supersti- 
tion, and  still  there  are  thousands  of  people 
who  dread  the  fatal  effects  of  the  fascino,  or 
to  give  it  the  popular  name,  the  jettatura" 

"  I  can  readily  understand  that  people  of 
low  origin  should  permit  themselves  to  be  in- 
fluenced by  this  idle  superstition,  but  I  can- 
not imagine  how  a  man  of  your  education  and 
position  can  place  faith  in  such  nonsense,"  re- 
marked Miss  Ward. 

"  More  than  one  man  of  high  standing 
hangs  a  pair  of  horns  over  his  window," 
continued  the  Comte,  "  and  nails  a  sacrifice 
over  his  door,  while  he  never  ventures  forth 
without  being  covered  with  amulets  and 
charms  ;  and  I  admit  that,  whenever  I  meet 
zjettatore  I  hurry  across  the  street,  and,  if  i 
cannot  avoid  his  glance,  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
make  the  sign  of  the  cross,  as  any  lazzarone 
would  do  ;  and  I  flatter  myself  that  I  have 
escaped  their  fatal  influence,  thanks  to  this 
precaution." 

Miss  Ward  was  a  Protestant,  brought  up 
with  liberal  ideas,  and  she  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  believe  anything  which  had  not  been 
explained  to  her  entire  satisfaction.  The 
Comte's  eloquence  surprised  her.  At  first 
she  supposed  he  was  only  jesting,  but  his 
earnest  manner  and  the  calm  conviction  with 


60  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

which  he  spoke  soon  caused  her  to  change 
her  views. 

"  I  will  admit  the  existence  of  this  super- 
stition,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  also  believe  you  are 
sincere  in  your  fear  of  the  evil  eye  and  that 
you  are  not  trying  to  work  on  the  fears  of  a 
poor  stranger ;  but  kindly  give  me  some 
positive  proof  of  the  existence  of  this  super- 
stition, for,  though  you  may  think  me  devoid 
of  poetic  feeling,  I  assure  you  that  I  am  very 
incredulous,  and  whatever  is  mysterious,  in- 
explicable, or  occult  impresses  me  very  little." 

"  You  will  not  deny,  Miss  Alicia,"  contin- 
ued the  Comte,  "  the  power  of  the  human  eye  ; 
in  it  the  light  of  heaven  combines  with  the 
reflection  of  the  soul ;  the  eye-ball  is  a  lens 
which  concentrates  the  rays  of  life  and  the  in- 
tellect reflects  itself  in  it  as  in  a  mirror.  A 
woman's  loving  glance  softens  the  hardest 
heart ;  a  hero's  glance  arouses  the  enthu- 
siasm of  an  army,  and  the  glance  of  a  physi- 
cian calms  the  madman  like  a  shower  of  cold 
water.  A  mother's  look  will  even  make  a  lion 
recoil  before  her." 

"  You  plead  your  cause  with  so  much  elo- 
quence," interrupted  Miss  Ward,  "  that  you 
must  pardon  me  if  I  am  still  doubtful." 

"  And  the  bird,  which,  palpitating  with  fear 
and  uttering  plaintive  cries,  descends  from 
the  topmost  branch  of  a  tree,  from  whence  it 


JETTATURA.  6 1 

could  easily  have  flown  away,  to  throw  itself 
into  the  open  mouth  of  the  serpent  that  has 
charmed  it,  is  certainly  not  moved  by  super- 
stition, as  it  is  not  probable  that  the  mothers 
entertain  their  young  with  stories  of  the  jetta- 
tura  as  they  sit  aloft  in  their  little  nests. 
Then,  again,  are  the  miasmas  of  typhoid  fever, 
of  that  pest,  cholera,  visible  ?  No  mortal  eye 
can  perceive  the  electric  fluid  as  it  runs  down 
the  lightning-rod,  and  yet  it  attracts  the  light- 
ning !  " 

"  It  strikes  me  that  the  Comte's  theory  is 
not  so  untenable  after  all,"  interrupted  the 
Commodore ;  "  I  never  could  look  at  a  toad's 
golden  eyes  without  feeling  revulsion  ;  it  acts 
on  me  exactly  as  if  I  had  taken  an  emetic  ; 
and  yet  the  miserable  reptile  had  more  to 
fear  than  I,  who  could  have  crushed  it  be- 
neath the  heel  of  my  boot." 

"  Oh,  uncle  !  if  you  take  sides  with  M. 
d'Altavilla  I  shall  have  to  acknowledge  my- 
self defeated,"  exclaimed  Miss  Ward.  "  I 
am  not  strong  enough  to  struggle  against 
such  opposition.  Although  I  might  have 
many  objections  to  raise  against  this  ocular 
electricity,  on  the  grounds  that  no  physician 
has  ever  mentioned  it  in  his  thesis,  still  I  am 
willing  to  admit  its  existence ;  but  will  you 
please  inform  me  what  power  the  pair  of 
horns  you  so  kindly  sent  me,  have  to  divert 


62  ROMA  N  TIC  L1BRAR  Y. 

the  fatal  effects  of  the  fascino,  or  jettatura,  as 
you  call  it  ?" 

"  On  the  same  principle  that  the  point  of 
the  lightning  rod  attracts  the  lightning," 
answered  d'Altavilla  ;  "  the  sharp  points  of  the 
horns  on  which  \h&jettatore  fixes  his  eyes  will 
divert  the  fatal  fluid.  An  outstretched  hand 
or  a  bunch  of  coral  charms  has  the  same 
effect." 

"  All  this  is  very  stupid,  Monsieur  le 
Comte,"  remarked  Miss  Ward ;  "  you  evi- 
dently desire  to  impress  me  with  the  idea 
that  I  am  under  the  influence  of  some 
dangerous  fascino  or  jettatore,  and  you  have 
sent  me  the  horns  in  order  to  divert  their 
fatal  influence." 

"  I  fear  you  have  guessed  the  truth,  Miss 
Alicia,"  replied  the  Comte  earnestly. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  one  of  those  goggle-eyed 
fellows  trying  to  charm  my  niece ! "  ex- 
claimed the  Commodore,  bolting  his  third 
sandwich.  "  Although  I  have  passed  my 
sixtieth  year,  I  haven't  quite  forgotten  how 
to  use  my  fists,"  and  he  doubled  up  his 
digits,  firmly  pressing  his  thumb  against  his 
doubled  fingers. 

"  Two  fingers  are  sufficient,  my  lord,"  said 
d'Altavilla,  as  he  showed  the  Commodore  how 
to  keep  away  the  evil  spirit  in  the  most  ap- 
proved Neapolitan  style.  "  As  a  rule,  the 


JETTATURA.  63 

jettatura  is  practised  involuntarily  ;  it  is  only 
exercised  by  those  who  possess  the  fatal 
power,  and  frequently  when  the  jettatori 
realize  their  terrible  affliction,  they  deplore 
the  effects  even  more  than  others  ;  we  should, 
therefore,  avoid  these  unhappy  beings,  but 
not  persecute  them.  Besides,  one  can  neu- 
tralize "their  fatal  influence  with  a  pair  of 
horns,  outstretched  fingers,  or  a  bunch  of 
coral  charms." 

"  It  is  really  very  curious,"  said  the  Com- 
modore, who  was  partly  convinced  by  d'Al- 
tavilla's  impressive  calmness. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  I  came  so  constantly 
in  contact  with  these  jettatori.  I  rarely 
leave  this  terrace  unless  it  is  to  take  a  drive 
along  the  Villa  Reale  with  my  uncle,  and  I 
have  never  noticed  anything  like  what  you 
have  described,"  said  the  young  girl,  whose 
curiosity  was  now  aroused,  although  she  was 
still  as  doubtful  as  before.  "  Of  whom  are 
you  suspicious  ?" 

"  I  am  not  suspicious,  Miss  Ward  ;  I  am 
positive  of  what  I  assert,"  replied  the  young 
Neapolitan. 

"  Then,  for  pity's  sake,  tell  us  the  name  of 
this  fatal  being?"  exclaimed  Miss  Ward, 
rather  sarcastically. 

But  d'Altavilla  was  silent. 


64  ROMA  N 1  '1C  L1BRAR  Y. 

"  It  is  always  well  to  know  whom  to  guard 
against,"  added  the  Commodore. 

The  young  Comte  reflected  for  a  moment ; 
then  he  rose,  and  approaching  the  Commo- 
dore, he  bowed  politely  and  said  : 

"  Milord  Ward,  I  have  the  honor  to  ask 
the  hand  of  your  niece." 

At  this  unexpected  request  Alicia  blushed 
to  the  roots  of  her  dark  hair,  and  from  red 
die  Commodore  turned  to  scarlet. 

The  Comte  d'Altavilla  certainly  had  a  right 
to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  Miss  Ward  ;  he  be- 
longed to  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  noble 
families  in  Naples  ;  he  was  handsome,  young, 
wealthy,  in  favor  at  court,  highly  educated, 
and  of  irreproachable  manners.  He  was 
therefore  perfectly  justified  in  making  this 
proposal ;  but  it  was  the  abrupt  and  unex- 
pected manner  in  which  it  was  made  which 
took  the  Commodore  and  his  niece  by  sur- 
prise. But  d'Altavilla  did  not  appear  the 
least  discouraged  or  disconcerted,  although 
he  awaited  the  answer  with  a  palpitating 
heart. 

"  After  the  Commodore  had  partly  recov- 
ered from  his  surprise  he  turned  to  the  Comte 
and  said  : 

"  My  dear  d'Altavilla,  I  must  confess  that 
while  I  am  highly  honored  by  your  pro- 
posal, it  has  taken  me  by  surprise.  Upon  my 


JETTATUKA.  65 

word,  I  don't  know  what  to  say  ;  I  have  not 
even  consulted  my  niece.  You  were  speak- 
ing of  fascirws,jettaturi,  horns,  charms,  open 
and  closed  ringers,  and  of  a  host  of  other 
things  which  are  in  no  wise  connected  with 
marriage,  and  the  next  moment  you  take  my 
breath  away  by  asking  for  Alicia's  hand  ! 
All  this  appears  very  strange,  and  you  must 
pardon  me  if  I  seem  a  little  at  sea.  Such  a 
union  would  be  very  proper,  I  am  sure,  but  I 
imagine  my  niece  has  other  intentions.  It 
is  true  that  such  an  old  sea-dog  as  I  am  can't 
read  a  young  girl's  heart,  but  I  think  I'm 
about  right,  when — " 

At  this  moment,  Alicia,  seeing  that  her 
uncle  was  getting  mixed  up,  came  to  his  res- 
cue and  at  the  same  time  put  an  end  to  a 
scene  which  was  becoming  embarrassing. 

"  When  an  honest  man  asks  for  the  hand  of 
a  young  girl,  Comte,  she  has  no  right  to  take 
offence,  but  she  certainly  has  the  right  to  be 
surprised  at  the  strange  manner  in  which  the 
request  is  made.  I  requested  you  to  disclose 
the  name  of  this  pretended  jetlatore  whose 
fatal  influence  you  claim  is  dangerous  to  me, 
and  you  suddenly  change  the  subject  by  ask- 
ing my  uncle  to  honor  you  with  the  hand  of 
his  niece  in  marriage — I  really  cannot  under- 
stand your  motive  for  so  doing." 

"  It  is  because  a  nobleman  does  not  care  to 


66  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

turn  informer,"  replied  Altavilla,  "  and  be- 
cause  a  husband  alone  has  the  right  to  pro- 
tect his  wife.  But  take  your  time  to  make  up 
your  mind.  I  can  afford  to  wait  a  few  days 
for  your  answer,  and,  until  then,  the  horns,  if 
properly  exposed,  will  protect  you  against  all 
fatal  influences." 

And  with  a  profound  bow,  the  Comte  took 
his  departure. 

Vice,  the  fawn-colored  servant  with  the 
matted  hair,  who  had  come  on  the  terrace  to 
remove  the  tea-pot  and  the  cups,  had  over- 
heard the  latter  part  of  the  conversation. 
She  despised  Paul  d'Aspremont  with  all  the 
aversion  which  a  peasant  of  the  Abruzzi, 
hardly  civilized  by  two  or  three  years  of  servi- 
tude, can  have  for  an  unbeliever  suspected  of 
jettaturaj  on  the  other  hand,  she  looked  upon 
the  Comte  d' Altavilla  as  a  sort  of  Adonis,  and 
she  could  not  understand  how  it  was  that 
Miss  Ward  preferred  a  pale  and  sickly 
looking  young  man,  whom  she,  Vice,  would 
not  have  condescended  to  notice  even  if  he 
had  not  had  an  evil  eye.  Besides,  she  could 
not  conceive  the  delicate  motives  which 
prompted  the  Comte  to  act  as  he  had  done, 
and  in  the  hope  of  protecting  her  mistress, 
whom  she  dearly  loved,  from  impending  evil, 
Vice  leaned  over  towards  Miss  Ward  as  she 
whispered  in  her  ear  : 


JETTATURA.  67 

"  I  can  tell  you  the  name  the  Comte  d'Alta- 
villa  refused  to  disclose." 

"  I  forbid  you  to  mention  it,  Vice,  if  you 
care  for  me  at  all,"  replied  Alicia.  "  Such 
superstition  is  positively  disgraceful,  and  I 
will  brave  it  like  a  Christian  maiden  who  has 
nothing  to  fear  but  her  God." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  JETTATORE  !  Jettatore  !  These  words 
were  certainly  addressed  to  me,"  muttered 
Paul  d'  Aspremont  to  himself  as  he  returned 
to  the  hotel.  "  I  don't  know  what  they  mean, 
but  they  certainly  mean  something  injurious 
or  ridiculous.  What  is  there  about  me  to 
attract  attention  ?  I  believe,  even  if  I  say  it 
myself,  that  I  am  neither  handsome  nor 
ugly,  neither  tall  nor  short,  thin  nor  stout, 
and  that  I  could  pass  unnoticed  in  a  crowd. 
There  is  nothing  at  all  eccentric  in  my  dress  ; 
I  do  not  wear  a  turban  illuminated  with  can- 
dles like  M.  Jourdain  in  Le  Bourgeois  Gentil- 
hotnme;  neither  do  I  wear  a  waistcoat  embroid- 
ered with  the  rising  sun  ;  a  nigger  does  not 
precede  me  with  a  pair  of  cymbals  :  my  indi- 
viduality, which  is  unknown  in  Naples,  any 
way,  is  concealed  beneath  an  ordinary  suit, 
and  I  am  not  at  all  different  in  appearance 


68  ROMANTIC  L1BRAR  Y. 

from  any  of  the  swells  who  stroll  along 
the  Rue  de  Tolede,  or  on  the  largo  of  the  pal- 
ace, unless  it  be  a  little  less  cravat,  a  little 
less  scarf-pin,  a  little  less  embroidered  shirt- 
front,  a  little  less  waistcoat,  a  little  less 
watch-chain,  and  considerably  less  curls. 

"  Perhaps  my  hair  isn't  properly  frizzed  ! 
To-morrow  I  will  have  the  barber  do  my  hair 
up  in  crimps,  as  ladies  do.  And  yet,  strangers 
are  not  curiosities  here,  and  a  slight  differ- 
ence in  dress  would  scarcely  justify  the  mys- 
terious word  and  the  strange  gesture  my  pres- 
ence provokes.  I  have  also  noticed  an  ex- 
pression of  antipathy  and  fear,  in  the  eyes 
of  the  people  who  recoil  from  me  at  my 
approach.  How  can  I  possibly  have  of- 
fended these  persons,  whom  I  have  never 
met  before  ?  A  passing  tourist  never  ex- 
cites any  other  feeling  than  that  of  indif- 
ference, unless  he  comes  from  a  far-off 
clime  or  is  a  specimen  of  an  unknown  race  ; 
but  the  steamer  unloads  hundreds  of  just 
such  tourists  as  I  am  every  week,  and  who 
bothers  his  head  about  them  except  the  fac- 
chini  and  the  hotel-keepers  ?  I  have  not 
killed  my  brother,  since  I  never  had  a  brother 
to  kill,  and  therefore  cannot  bear  the  mark  of 
Cain  on  my  forehead — and  yet  strong  men 
tremble  and  recoil  at  my  approach.  I  never 
produced  such  an  effect  either  in  Paris,  Lon- 


JETTATURA.  69 

non,  Vienna  or  any  of  the  cities  I  have  visited; 
sometimes  I  have  been  accused  of  being  too 
proud  ;  I  have  been  told  that  I  affect  the 
English  sneer  y  and  that  I  imitate  Lord 
Byron,  but  I  have  always  received  the  wel- 
come accorded  a  gentleman,  and  my  advances, 
although  a  rare  occurrence,  were  invariably 
appreciated.  A  three-days  sea  voyage  from 
Marseilles  to  Naples  certainly  cannot  have 
changed  my  appearance  so  as  to  render  me 
hideous  or  grotesque  in  the  eyes  of  the  ladies, 
who,  I  flatter  myself,  were  always  favorably 
impressed  with  me — were  it  otherwise  I  never 
could  have  won  the  love  of  Alicia  Ward,  a 
charming  young  girl,  a  celestial  creature — one 
of  Tom  Moore's  angels  !  " 

It  was  very  late.  With  the  exception  of 
Paul,  all  the  other  guests  had  already  retired. 
Gelsomina,  one  of  the  servants  who  took  part 
in  the  discussion  in  the  kitchen  of  the  hotel 
between  Scazziga  and  Timberio,  was  awaiting 
his  arrival  to  lock  up  for  the  night.  Nanella, 
the  other  girl,  whose  night  on  it  was,  begged 
Gelsomina  to  take  her  place,  as  she  was  afraid 
to  meet  the  man  suspected  of  being  a  jetta- 
tore.  Gelsomina  was  well  prepared  for  the 
meeting — an  enormous  bunch  of  charms 
was  suspended  around  her  neck,  while  two 
little  coral  horns  dangled  from  her  shapely 
ears,  and  the  index  of  her  right  hand  was 


7°  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

pointed  at  the  intruder  in  a  manner  which 
would  undoubtedly  have  won  the  approba- 
tion of  M.  Andrea  de  Jorio,  author  of  the 
Mimica  degli  antichi  investigata  nelgestire  napo- 
letano. 

The  courageous  girl,  concealing  her  right 
hand  beneath  a  fold  of  her  dress,  presented  a 
light  to  M.  d'Aspremont  with  her  left,  while 
the  piercing,  almost  defiant,  look  she  directed 
upon  him  compelled  the  young  man  to  lower 
his  eyes, — a  victory  which  appeared  to  greatly 
please  Gelsomina. 

After  the  traveller  had  gone  up-stairs,  and 
the  noise  of  his  footsteps  was  no  longer 
heard,  Gelsomina  raised  her  head  with  a 
triumphant  air,  as  she  said  to  herself :  "  I 
made  him  lower  his  eyes,  all  the  same  ;  may 
Saint  Januarius  confound  him,  he  is  a  bad 
man  ;  but  I  am  sure  no  harm  will  come  to 
me  now." 

Paul  slept  badly ;  he  was  tormented  with 
curious  dreams  relating  to  the  strange  events 
which  had  transpired  during  the  past  twenty- 
four  hours  :  he  imagined  himself  surrounded 
by  a  group  of  scowling,  threatening  faces, 
on  which  hatred,  anger,  and  fear  were  plainly 
depicted  ;  then  the  faces  disappeared  ;  long, 
skinny,  bony  fingers,  with  horny  knuckles, 
were  pointed  at  him  in  the  darkness,  threat- 
ening him  with  cabalistic  gestures.  The  nails 


JETTATURA.  71 

of  these  hands,  resembling  the  talons  of  a 
vulture,  seemed  to  menace  the  destruction  of 
his  eyesight.  By  a  superhuman  effort  he 
succeeded  in  thrusting  aside  these  hands ; 
but  they  were  immediately  replaced  by  a 
heap  of  horned  heads  of  different  animals, 
which  charged  upon  him  and  attempted  to 
drive  him  into  the  sea,  where  his  body  was 
torn  to  shreds  on  a  jagged  coral  reef ;  a  wave 
carried  him  back  to  the  shore,  torn  and  dis- 
figured and  more  dead  than  alive  ;  and,  like 
Byron's  Don  Juan,  he  perceived,  while  in  a 
trance,  the  face  of  a  young  woman  leaning 
over  him — it  was  not  Haide*e,  but  Alicia, 
more  beautiful  even  than  the  fair  creature 
painted  by  the  poet.  The  young  girl  was 
making  desperate  efforts  to  draw  the  inani- 
mate body  on  the  sands,  and  when  she  asked 
Vice,  the  dark-skinned  servant,  to  lend  her  a 
helping  hand,  the  latter  refused  with  a  coarse 
laugh  :  finally  Alicia's  arms  were  deprived  of 
their  strength,  and  a  retreating  wave  washed 
him  out  to  sea. 

These  frightful  dreams  tormented  the 
sleeper  until  the  break  of  day,  and  Paul 
arose  with  anxiety,  as  if  some  terrible  secret 
had  been  revealed  to  him  during  his  sleep. 
He  closed  his  eyes  to  shut  out  the  truth  ;  for 
the  first  time  life  seemed  a  burden  to  him. 
He  even  doubted  Alicia  ;  the  Comte  d'Al- 


7  2  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

tavilla's  contented  air,  the  attention  with  which 
the  young  girl  listened  to  his  song,  the  Com- 
modore's approving  smile, — all  this  recurred 
to  him,  embellished  with  a  hundred  minute 
details,  filling  his  heart  with  sorrow  and  add- 
ing still  more  to  the  feeling  of  melancholy 
which  had  taken  possession  of  him. 

The  sunlight  has  the  power  to  dispel  all 
nocturnal  visions,  and  the  demon  of  darkness 
spread  out  his  wings  and  disappeared  with 
the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun.  It  was  soon 
shining  brightly  in  the  clear  sky,  reflecting 
its  golden  rays  on  the  blue  sea,  which  was  as 
clear  as  crystal.  Paul  slowly  recovered  his 
equanimity ;  he  soon  forgot  the  frightful 
dreams  and  the  curious  impression  caused  by 
his  appearance  the  night  before,  or,  if  he 
thought  of  them  at  all,  it  was  with  a  smile  at 
their  extravagance. 

He  took  a  stroll  to  Chiaja  to  while  away 
the  time,  and  amused  himself  by  gazing  at 
the  Neapolitans  as  they  hurried  to  their 
work  ;  the  merchants  were  calling  out  their 
wares  for  sale  in  the  quaint  dialect  of  the 
country,  unintelligible  to  Paul,  who  did  not 
speak  Italian,  with  those  excited  gestures 
which  are  unknown  to  the  children  of  a 
Northern  clime  ;  but  every  time  he  halted  in 
front  of  a  shop,  the  proprietor,  instead  of 
appearing  pleased  at  the  prospect  of  dis- 


JETTATURA.  73 

posing  of  some  of  his  stock,  assumed  a  terri- 
fied air,  as  he  murmured  an  invocation  in  a 
low  tone,  and  pointed  his  finger  at  the  intru- 
der ;  while  the  gossips  and  old  hags  who 
infest  Chiaja  were  even  still  more  rude  in 
their  actions,  and  showered  the  vilest  epithets 
upon  him  as  they  shook  their  fists  at  him. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ON  hearing  the  jeers  and  curses  of  the 
people  of  Chiaja,  M  d'Aspremont  believed 
that  he  was  the  victim  of  the  vulgar  custom 
of  ridiculing  and  guying  well-dressed  gentle- 
men who  pass  through  the  fish-market ;  but 
the  disgust  and  fright  they  evinced  was  so 
marked  that  he  soon  realized  that  this  was 
not  the  case  ;  the  word  jettatore,  which  had 
already  reached  his  ears  in  the  theatre  of  San 
Carlino,  was  repeated  here  on  every  side,  only 
this  time  those  who  pronounced  it  were  more 
threatening  in  their  manner ;  so  he  walked 
away  slowly,  carefully  avoiding  to  fix  eyes 
which  were  the  cause  of  so  much  trouble,  on 
any  one.  On  his  way,  Paul  passed  a  book- 
store ;  he  halted  before  it,  and  began  to  fumble 
the  leaves  of  the  exposed  volumes  for  want  of 
something  better  to  do ;  in  this  manner  his 
back  was  turned  upon  the  passing  throng,  and, 


74  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  pages  of  the 
books,  he  avoided  attracting  its  attention. 
At  one  moment  he  was  tempted  to  charge 
upon  the  crowd  and  pay  them  for  their  inso- 
lence with  a  shower  of  blows  with  his  cane, 
but  he  refrained  from  doing  so,  influenced  by 
a  vague,  superstitious  terror.  He  remembered 
how  he  once  had  struck  an  impudent  coach- 
man with  his  cane  and  had  unhappily  hit  him 
on  the  temple,  killing  him  instantly ;  this 
involuntary  murder  constantly  haunted  Paul, 
and  warned  him  against  violence. 

After  having  examined  a  large  number  of 
books  his  eyes  suddenly  fell  upon  the  "  Jetta- 
tura  "  of  Signer  Nicolo  Valetta  ;  the  title  of 
the  book  shone  in  his  eyes  in  letters  of  fire, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  volume  had 
been  placed  there  by  the  hand  of  fate  ;  he 
flung  the  price  of  the  book  at  the  shopkeeper, 
who  was  gazing  at  him  in  evident  terror  and 
toyed  with  a  bunch  of  coral  charms  on  his 
watch-chain.  Hurrying  to  the  hotel  d'Aspre- 
mont  locked  himself  in  his  room  in  order  not 
to  be  interrupted  in  his  perusal  of  the  book, 
which,  he  expected,  would  enlighten  him  as  to 
the  meaning  of  the  curious  events  which  had 
transpired  since  his  sojourn  in  Naples. 

Signer  Valetta's  treatise  on  the  evil  spirit 
is  as  well  known  in  Naples  as  the  "  Secrets  du 
grand  Albert"  "  F  Etteila"  or  "La  clef  des 


JETTATURA.  75 

Songes"  are  in  Paris.  Valetta  defines  the 
jettatura,  explains  how  it  can  be  identified  by 
certain  marks,  and  by  what  means  one  can  pro- 
tect himself  against  its  fatal  influence  :  he 
divides  the  jettatori  into  several  distinct 
classes,  arranging  them  in  regular  order  in 
accordance  with  the  power  they  possess,  and 
discusses  at  great  length  all  details  connected 
with  this  curious  question. 

If  he  had  picked  this  book  up  in  Paris, 
d'Aspremont  would  merely  have  glanced  over 
it  in  that  careless  manner  with  which  one 
fumbles  the  leaves  of  an  old  almanac,  and  he 
would  have  heartily  laughed  at  the  serious 
manner  in  which  the  author  treated  this  non- 
sense ;  but  in  his  present  frame  of  mind, 
agitated  as  he  was  by  a  number  of  curious 
incidents,  he  read  the  book  over  with  a  feel- 
ing of  horror.  Although  he  did  not  attempt 
to  penetrate  its  meaning,  the  secrets  of  hell 
were  plainly  revealed  to  him  ;  they  were  no 
longer  a  mystery  to  him,  and  he  was  now  fully 
aware  of  the  fatal  power  he  possessed — he 
was  a  jettatore  !  He  was  obliged  to  acknowl- 
edge it,  for  he  had  every  symptom  and  mark 
by  which  Valetta  identifies  them. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  a  man  who  has 
always  thought  himself  blessed  with  an  iron 
constitution,  accidentally  opens  a  medical 
work,  and,  in  reading  the  pathological  des- 


7<5  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

cription  of  a  disease  therein,  suddenly  recog- 
nizes the  symptoms  in  his  own  system  ;  thus 
enlightened  he  feels,  at  the  discovery  of  each 
fresh  symptom,  new  evidence  of  its  existence 
within  himself,  and  he  trembles  at  the  seeming 
approach  of  a  death  he  never  dreamed  of. 
Paul  experienced  just  such  an  impression. 

He  placed  himself  before  a  mirror,  and 
gazed  at  himself  in  awe-stricken  terror  :  the 
incongruity  of  his  appearance,  composed  as 
it  was  of  perfect  parts,  which,  as  a  rule, 
are  not  found  in  one  person,  made  him  look 
for  all  the  world  like  the  archangel  after  his 
expulsion  from  Paradise,  and,  as  he  stood 
there  before  the  mirror,  the  fibres  of  his  eye- 
balls wriggled  like  so  many  vipers  ;  his  eye- 
brows quivered  like  the  bow  which  has  just 
shot  forth  the  poisoned  arrow  ;  the  white  fur- 
row in  his  forehead  resembled  the  white  scar 
of  a  burn,  while  his  auburn  hair  seemed  to  shed 
forth  a  reddish  lustre  not  unlike  the  flames 
which  are  said  to  exist  in  hell,  and  the  deadly 
pallor  of  his  skin  made  every  feature  of  his 
fiendish  countenance  stand  out  in  bold  relief. 

Paul  was  afraid  of  himself.  He  imagined 
that  the  reflection  of  his  eyes  in  the  mirror 
was  casting  poisoned  darts  at  him — picture 
to  yourself  Medusa  gazing  at  her  charming 
but  fearful  countenance  on  the  dull  surface  of 
a  brass  buckler. 


JETTATURA.  77 

Paul  realized  that  he  was  a  fiend  in  human 
form  !  Although  endowed  with  noble  and 
affectionate  instincts,  he  carried  misfortune 
wherever  he  went ;  his  involuntary  glance, 
charged  with  venom,  brought  suffering  and 
misery  to  those  on  whom  it  rested.  He  pos- 
sessed the  fatal  power  to  collect,  concentrate 
and  distil  the  dangerous  electricity  and  mor- 
bid miasmas  and  other  frightful  infections  of 
the  atmosphere  and  hurl  them  broadcast  upon 
those  near  him.  A  number  of  curious  inci- 
dents in  his  past  which  he  had  always  cred- 
ited to  chance  alone  were  now  clearly  ex- 
plained ;  he  distinctly  remembered  all  sorts 
of  strange  misadventures  and  accidents 
which  he  never  could  account  for. 

He  recalled  his  life,  year  by  year ;  he  re- 
membered his  mother,  who  died  in  giving  him 
birth ;  the  sad  fate  of  his  schoolmates,  the 
dearest  of  whom  fell  from  a  tree  and  was 
killed  while  Paul  encouraged  him  to  steal 
some  apples  ;  an  excursion  in  a  canoe  which 
begun  most  auspiciously  with  two  of  his  com- 
rades, and  from  which  he  alone  returned,  after 
the  most  frantic  efforts  to  recover  the  bodies 
of  the  unfortunate  lads  who  had  fallen  over- 
board ;  the  fencing  bout  in  which  his  foil 
broke  off,  transforming  the  foil  into  a  sword, 
and  in  which  he  dangerously  wounded  his 
dearest  friend — all  these  accidents  were  com- 


78  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

raon  enough,  to  be  sure,  and  Paul  had  always 
looked  upon  them  as  such  ;  but  he  knew  dif- 
ferently since  he  had  perused  Valetta's  work, 
and  he  reasoned  that  the  fatal  influence  of 
the  jettatura  certainly  had  a  hand  in  all  these 
misfortunes.  Such  a  continuous  number  of 
accidents  in  connection  with  one  person  was 
unnatural. 

Another  incident,  and  of  more  recent  date, 
recurred  to  him  in  all  its  horrible  reality,  and 
in  no  little  wise  assisted  in  convincing  him 
that  he  was  undoubtedly  accursed. 

While  in  London,  he  frequently  went  to 
Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  where  he  was  greatly 
impressed  with  the  grace  and  talent  of  a 
young  English  danseuse.  Without,  however, 
being  more  infatuated  with  her  than  a  man 
of  the  world  is  with  one  of  the  graceful  figures 
contained  in  a  painting  or  an  engraving,  he  fol- 
lowed her  movements,  as  she  whirled  about 
in  the  mazes  of  the  ballet  or  charmed  the 
spectators  in  a  pas  seulej  it  pleased  him  to 
gaze  at  the  sad  young  face,  which  never 
flushed  at  the  applause  of  the  audience,  her 
beautiful  blonde  hair,  crowned  with  golden 
stars,  the  chaste  white  shoulders,  which  in- 
stinctively shivered  under  the  opera-glasses 
which  followed  her  movements,  the  shapely 
limbs  which  were  plainly  visible  through  the 
thin  gauze  skirt  and  which  shone  beneath 


JETTATURA.  79 

their  silken  covering  like  the  marble  of  an 
antique  statue  ;  each  time  she  approached  the 
footlights,  he  either  loudly  applauded  her  or 
raised  his  eyeglass  in  order  to  see  the  better. 

One  night,  the  danseuse,  carried  away  by 
the  momentum  of  the  dance,  came  too  near 
the  glittering  line  of  gas-jets  which  separated 
the  ideal  from  the  real  world.  Her  slender 
draperies,  fluttering  like  the  wings  of  a  dove 
about  to  take  its  flight,  suddenly  came  in 
contact  with  a  gas-jet,  and  the  light  material 
was  soon  ablaze.  In  a  moment  the  flames 
enveloped  the  young  girl,  who  ran  about  for 
a  few  seconds  surrounded  by  a  mass  of  fire  ; 
then,  turning  around,  she  rushed  madly 
towards  the  wings,  where  she  fell  down — an- 
other victim  of  that  insatiable  fiend,  the  fire 
king.  Paul  was  deeply  pained  by  this  calam- 
ity, but  he  never  felt  any  remorse,  as  he  did 
not  suppose  he  was  in  any  way  responsible 
for  her  death. 

But  he  was  now  convinced  that  the  obsti- 
nacy with  which  he  had  gazed  at  the  danseuse 
had  more  or  less  to  do  with  her  untimely  end. 
He  looked  upon  himself  as  an  assassin ;  he 
was  afraid  of  himself,  and  he  wished  that  he 
had  never  been  born. 

A  violent  reaction  followed  this  prostra- 
tion ;  he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh  and  flung 
Valetta's  book  from  him. 


8o  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

"  Decidedly,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  either 
a  madman  or  a  fool  !  The  hot  sun  of  Naples 
has  probably  affected  my  brain.  What  would 
the  members  of  my  club  say  if  they  heard  that 
I  was  actually  bothering  my  head  with  the 
absurd  question — whether  I  am,  yes  or  no, — 
a  jettatore ! " 

Paddy  knocked  discreetly  at  the  door. 
Paul  drew  the  bolt,  and  the  valet  handed  him 
a  note  with  Miss  Ward's  compliments. 

M.  d'Aspremont  broke  the  seal  and  read 
as  follows  : 

"  Are  you  angry  with  me,  Paul  ? — You  did 
not  call  last  evening,  and  your  sorbet  au  citron 
melted  in  its  cup  while  we  waited  for  you. 
Until  nine  o'clock  I  listened  attentively  for 
the  sound  of  your  carriage-wheels  ;  then  I  lost 
all  hoge,  and  I  quarrelled  with  the  Commo- 
dore. See  how  just  women  are  !  Undoubt- 
edly, Pulcinella  with  his  red  nose,  and  Don 
Simon  and  Donna  Pangrazia  must  be  a  great 
attraction,  as  my  secret  police  have  informed 
me  that  you  passed  last  evening  in  the  theatre 
at  San  Carlino.  And  you  have  not  written 
a  single  one  of  those  so-called  important  let- 
ters. Why  not  honestly  confess  that  you  are 
jealous  of  the  Comte  Altavilla  ?  I  thought 
you  had  more  pride,  and  I  am  surprised  at 
your  modesty.  You  need  have  no  fear,  how- 
ever. M.  d'Altavilla  is  a  great  deal  too 
handsome,  and  I  do  not  fancy  this  Apollo 
with  his  bunch  of  coral  charms.  If  I  did  what 
is  considered  proper  I  would  write  to  say 


JETTATURA.  81 

that  I  have  not  even  missed  you  ;  but,  since 
I  must  tell  the  truth,  let  me  add  that  the  time 
passed  slowly  without  you,  and  that  I  have 
been  extremely  nervous  and  ill-humored  ;  I 
almost  boxed  Vice's  ears  ;  the  girl  was  laugh- 
ing away  as  if  she  had  taken  leave  of  her 
senses — but  I  really  cannot  say  what  has 
caused  this  unusual  levity.  A.  W." 

This  humorous  and  sarcastic  epistle  brought 
Paul  to  his  senses.  He  dressed  in  hot  haste, 
ordered  a  carriage,  and  soon  the  doubtful 
Scazziga  was  snapping  his  whip  as  his  horses 
galloped  over  the  lava  pavement  and  through 
the  ever  varying  crowd  on  the  quai  of  Santa- 
Lucia. 

"  I  say,  Scazziga,  why  all  this  hurry  ?  You 
will  surely  upset  us  !  "  called  out  M.  d'Aspre- 
mont.  The  coachman  turned  around  to  re- 
ply, and  met  Paul's  furious  glance.  A  stone 
he  had  not  seen  struck  one  of  the  wheels, 
knocking  him  clean  off  the  box.  Active  as  a 
monkey,  he  sprang  back  in  his  seat,  but 
there  was  a  big  lump,  as  large  as  a  hen's  egg, 
in  the  middle  of  his  forehead. 

"  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  turn  around  the  next 
time  you  have  anything  to  say  !  "  he  grumbled : 
"  Timberio  and  Falsacappa  were  right — he  is 
a  jettatore  !  I  will  buy  myself  a  pair  of  horns 
to-morrow — they  can't  do  any  harm  even  if 
they  don't  do  any  good." 

This  little  incident  annoyed  Paul  ;  he  added 


82  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

this  last  accident  to  the  series  of  misfortunes 
with  which  he  had  been  identified  ;  it  is  no  un- 
usual occurrence  for  a  carriage  to  run  against 
a  stone,  and  a  clumsy  coachman  frequently 
loses  his  seat.  There  was  therefore  nothing 
so  very  wonderful  in  this,  after  all.  And  yet, 
the  effect  had  followed  the  cause  so  promptly, 
Scazziga's  fall  coincided  so  exactly  with  the 
glance  he  had  given  him,  that  all  his  doubts 
returned. 

u  I  have  half  a  mind  to  get  out  of  this 
wonderful  country,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I 
can  feel  my  brain  rattling  in  my  head  like  a 
dried  nut  in  its  shell.  But  if  I  confided  my 
fears  to  Alicia  she  would  simply  laugh  at  me, 
and  the  climate  is  favorable  to  her  health. 
Her  health  !  why,  she  was  strong  and  healthy 
when  I  first  met  her.  And  yet,  before  my 
very  eyes,  I  have  seen  her  growing  thinner  and 
thinner  every  day  !  How  her  bright  eyes 
become  dimmed  in  my  presence,  and  her 
shapely  hand  has  fallen  away  at  my  touch ! 
One  would  suppose  that  consumption  had 
already  claimed  her  as  its  own.  In  my 
absence,  she  has  regained  her  strength,  the 
bloom  has  returned  to  her  cheek,  and  her 
chest,  which  caused  her  physician  no  end  of 
anxiety,  has  ceased  to  trouble  her  ;  delivered 
of  my  fatal  presence,  she  would  live  for  years. 
Am  I  not  killing  her?  Have  I  not  involun- 


JETTATURA.  83 

tarily  east  the  fascino's  spell  about  her  ?  But, 
after  all,  I  can  see  no  occasion  for  worriment, 
although  she  did  have  a  bad  spell  the  other 
evening  ;  most  English  girls  are  subject  to 
lung  troubles." 

These  thoughts  filled  Paul's  mind  until  the 
end  of  the  journey.  When  he  presented  him- 
self upon  the  terrace,  the  immense  pair  of 
Sicilian  bull's  horns  presented  by  the  Comte 
Altavilla  was  the  first  object  to  meet  his  view. 
Noticing  that  Paul  had  remarked  them,  the 
Commodore  turned  blue  :  that  was  his  style 
of  blushing,  for,  not  so  discreet  as  his  niece, 
he  had  lent  a  friendly  ear  to  Vice. 

Alicia,  with  an  imperative  gesture,  motioned 
to  the  domestic  to  remove  the  horns,  and 
fixing  her  lovely  eyes,  filled  with  love  and 
confidence,  on  Paul,  gave  him  a  kindly  wel- 
come. 

"  Let  them  remain  where  they  are,"  said 
Paul  to  Vice  ;  "  they  are  very  beautiful." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  fact  that  Paul  had  condescended  to 
notice  the  horns  presented  by  the  Comte 
Altavilla  appeared  to  please  the  Commodore  ; 
while  Vice  smiled,  showing  her  white  fangs, 
and  Alicia,  with  a  rapid  glance,  seemed  to 


84  ROMA N TIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

question  Paul  without  eliciting  a  reply  in 
return. 

A  painful  silence  followed. 

The  first  minutes  of  a  visit,  no  matter  how 
frequent  the  visitor  may  call  or  how  intimate 
he  may  be,  are  always  embarrassing.  The 
Commodore  was  playing  with  his  thumbs  ; 
d'Aspremont  gazed  fixedly  at  the  horns 
which  he  had  forbidden  Vice  to  remove,  and 
Alicia  pretended  to  tie  the  red  bow  of  her 
white  muslin  wrapper. 

It  was  Miss  Ward  who  first  broke  the  ice, 
with  that  freedom  enjoyed  by  young  English 
girls,  so  reserved  and  modest  after  mar- 
riage. 

"  Really,  Paul,  you  have  been  anything  but 
agreeable  during  the  past  few  days.  Is  your 
gallantry  a  rare  hot-house  flower  which  blooms 
only  on  English  soil,  or  does  the  hot  sun  of 
Naples  retard  its  development  ?  How  devo- 
ted, how  attentive  you  were  in  our  little  home 
in  Lincolnshire  !  You  approached  me  with 
your  hand  on  your  heart,  and  with  words  of 
love  on  your  lips,  always  prepared  to  fall  on 
your  knees  before  the  idol  of  your  dreams — 
in  fact  you  were  just  such  a  model  lover  as 
one  reads  about  in  novels." 

"  I  love  you  more  then  ever,  Alicia," 
replied  d'Aspremont  in  a  voice  full  of  emotion, 
although  he  did  not  remove  his  eyes  from  the 


JETTATURA.  85 

horns  which  hung  on  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
terrace. 

"  You  say  it  so  mournfully  that  one  must 
indeed  be  confident  to  believe  it,"  continued 
Miss  Ward  ;  "  I  rather  imagine  that  what 
pleased  you  most  was  my  diaphanous  com- 
plexion, my  sylph-like  form  and  ethereal 
appearance  ;  my  suffering  gave  me  a  certain 
romantic  charm  which  I  no  longer  possess." 

"  Alicia  !  You  are  lovelier  now  than  ever 
before  ! " 

"  Words,  words,  idle  words,  as  Shakespeare 
says.  I  am  so  beautiful,  in  fact,  that  you  do 
not  condescend  to  notice  me." 

And  she  spoke  the  truth  ;  Paul  had  not 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  during  the  entire  con- 
versation. 

"  Well,"  she  said  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  I  see 
that  I  have  become  a  stout  and  awkward  peas- 
ant, with  a  red,  freckled  face,  without  the 
slightest  distinction,  and  totally  unfit  to  figure 
at  the  county  ball  or  in  an  album  of  cele- 
brated beauties." 

"  Evidently,  you  delight  in  calumniating 
yourself,  Miss  Ward,"  remarked  Paul,  with 
his  eyes  still  lowered  upon  the  ground. 

"  You  had  much  rather  confess  that  I  am 
horrible.  And  it  is  your  fault,  too,  Commo- 
dore ;  with  your  chicken-wings,  your  cutlets, 
your  filets  de  bo>uf,  your  little  glass  of  Mad- 


86  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRA  R  Y. 

eira,  your  excursions  on  horseback,  your  salt 
water  baths,  and  gymnastic  exercises — you 
have  succeeded  in  dispelling  M.  d'Aspre- 
mont's  poetical  illusions  by  transforming  me 
into  a  strong,  healthy  girl." 

"  You  are  tantalizing  M.  d'Aspremont  and 
you  are  guying  me,"  replied  the  Commodore  ; 
11  but,  at  all  events,  my  filets  de  bceuf  are 
strengthening,  and  a  good  glass  of  Madeira 
has  never  harmed  any  one." 

"  How  disappointed  you  must  be,  my  dear 
fellow  !  you  leave  a  skeleton  behind  you,  and 
you  are  confronted  a  few  months  later  with 
what  the  physicians  term  a  strong,  well-con- 
stituted woman  !  Now,  listen  to  me,  since 
you  haven't  the  courage  to  look  for  yourself, 
and  hold  up  your  hands  in  terror — I  have 
gained  seven  pounds  since  I  left  England  !  " 

"  Eight  pounds  !  "  proudly  interrupted  the 
Commodore,  who  cared  for  Alicia  with  the 
tenderness  of  a  mother. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  I  have  really 
gained  as  much  as  all  that  ?  I  am  sure  you 
wish  to  disenchant  M.  d'Aspremont  forever," 
remarked  Alicia  laughingly. 

While  the  young  girl  was  tantalizing  him 
in  this  manner,  Paul,  who  was  now  a  firm 
believer  in  his  fatal  power,  never  permitted 
his  eyes  to  rest  upon  her,  and  he  either  fixed 
them  upon  the  talismanic  horns  or  turned 


JETTATURA.  87 

them  upon  the  broad  expanse  of  water  which 
could  plainly  be  seen  from  the  terrace. 

He  asked  himself  whether  it  was  not  his 
duty  to  desert  Alicia,  even  though  he  passed 
for  a  man  devoid  of  horror  and  faith,  to 
go  and  end  his  days  on  some  desert  island 
where,  at  least,  his  fatal  power  would  not 
strike  down  those  with  whom  he  came  in 
contact. 

"  I  know  why  you  are  so  serious,"  con- 
tinued Alicia  in  the  same  jesting  manner, 
"  the  date  of  our  marriage  has  been  arranged 
for  next  month  ;  and  you  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  becoming  the  husband  of  a  poor 
country  girl,  devoid  of  style  or  figure.  Very 
well,  then,  I  give  you  back  your  freedom — 
you  are  now  at  liberty  to  wed  my  friend 
Sarah  Templeton,  who  eats  pickles  and 
drinks  vinegar  all  day  long  in  order  to  get 
thin  ! " 

Then  she  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  while 
the  Commodore  and  Paul  joined  her. 

When  she  finally  realized  that  her  sarcasm 
had  no  effect  on  d'Aspremont,  she  took 
him  by  the  hand,  and  leading  him  to  the 
piano,  which  was  situated  in  a  little  arbor  on 
the  terrace,  she  remarked  while  she  opened 
her  music  : 

"  I  see,  my  dear,  that  you  are  in  no  humor 
to  talk  to-day,  so  you  will  have  to  sing  that 


88  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

which  you  cannot  say.  You  will  therefore 
accompany  me  in  this  duettino,  the  music  of 
which  is  very  easy." 

Paul  seated  himself  on  the  stool,  while 
Miss  Ward  stood  up  beside  him  in  order  to 
follow  the  notes  of  the  song.  The  Commo- 
dore threw  back  his  head,  stretched  out  his 
legs,  and  assumed  the  attitude  of  an  attentive 
listener,  as  was  his  wont  on  the  pretence  that 
he  was  an  ardent  admirer  of  Beethoven  and 
Chopin,  but  he  invariably  fell  fast  asleep 
before  the  last  note  on  the  first  sheet  was 
reached,  accompanying  the  singer  with  a 
series  of  loud  snorts  and  snores. 

The  duettino  was  a  bright  and  pleasing 
melody  composed  by  Cimarosa,  with  words 
by  Me*tastase,  and,  as  it  is  said  that  music 
has  the  power  to  soothe  the  savage  beast, 
it  no  doubt  dispels  evil  spirits  as  well.  In  a 
few  moments,  Paul  no  longer  thought  of 
magic  horns,  conjurer's  fingers,  or  coral 
charms  ;  he  had  completely  forgotten  Signer 
Valetta's  book  and  all  the  superstitions  of 
the  jettatura.  His  mind  was  free  from  all 
such  thoughts  and  his  soul  ascended  lightly, 
together  with  Alicia's  sweet  voice,  towards 
the  bright  sun. 

The  grasshoppers  ceased  their  chirping  in 
order  to  listen,  while  the  brisk  sea  breeze  car- 
ried away  the  notes  together  with  the  leaves 


JETTATURA.  89 

of  the  flowers  which  had  fallen  from  the  vases 
on  the  terrace. 

"  My  uncle  sleeps  as  soundly  as  did  the 
seven  giants  in  the  cave.  If  it  was  not  an  old 
habit,  our  pride  as  virtuosos  might  possibly 
be  ruffled,"  remarked  Alicia  as  she  closed 
the  piano.  "  While  he  is  taking  his  siesta,  will 
you  take  a  stroll  in  the  garden  with  me, 
Paul  ?  I  have  not  yet  pointed  out  the 
charms  of  my  Paradise  to  you." 

And  she  took  down  a  large  straw  hat  from 
the  nail  on  which  it  was  hanging. 

Alicia  professed  to  be  decidedly  original  in 
horticulture  ;  she  did  not  permit  any  one  to 
pluck  the  flowers  or  trim  the  branches  of  the 
bushes  ;  and  that  which  charmed  her  most 
when  she  first  inspected  the  villa  was  the 
natural  and  wild  state  of  the  vegetation. 

The  young  people  forced  their  way  through 
the  dense  underbrush.  Alicia  walked  ahead, 
and  she  laughed  merrily  whenever  the 
branches  of  a  laurel-rose  bush,  displaced  by 
her,  would  fly  back  and  swish  Paul  across 
the  face. 

"  Here  is  my  favorite  retreat,  Paul,"  said 
Alicia,  pointing  to  a  clump  of  picturesque 
rocks,  protected  by  an  overhanging  mass  of 
orange  and  myrtle  leaves. 

She  seated  herself  on  one  of  the  rocks, 
and  pointing  to  the  moss-covered  earth, 


9°  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

she  requested   Paul  to  kneel  there  at  her 

feet. 

.  "  Now  place  your  two  hands  in  mine  and 

look  me  straight  in  the  face.     In  a  month's 

time  I  will  be  your  wife.    Why  do  your  eyes 

avoid  mine? " 

At  this  moment,  Paul,  whose  mind  was 
again  filled  with  thoughts  of  the  jettatura, 
turned  his  head  aside. 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  read  a  guilty  thought 
in  my  eyes  ?  You  know  my  heart  has  been 
yours  since  the  first  day  you  presented  your- 
self with  that  letter  of  introduction  in  our 
parlor  in  Richmond.  I  belong  to  that  proud) 
romantic  and  loving  English  race  which,  in  a 
moment,  conceives  the  love  of  a  lifetime,  and 
those  who  love  thus  are  never  afraid  to  die. 
Gaze  into  my  eyes,  Paul,  I  command  you  ;  do 
not  turn  aside  your  glance,  or  I  shall  begin 
to  believe  that  a  gentleman  who  should  fear 
no  one  but  his  God  is  afraid  of  a  vile  super- 
stition. Now  turn  your  eyes  upon  me  and 
judge  for  yourself  whether  I  am  pretty 
enough  to  take  for  a  drive,  in  an  open  car- 
riage in  Hyde  Park,  after  we  are  married." 

Paul,  carried  away  by  her  enthusiasm,  fixed 
his  eyes  upon  Alicia  in  a  glance  full  of  pas- 
sionate love.  Suddenly  the  young  girl's  face 
assumed  a  deathly  pallor;  a  sharp  pain  pierced 
her  heart  like  an  arrow;  it  seemed  as  if  some 


JETTATURA.  91 

fibre  had  parted  in  her  bosom,  and  she  raised 
her  handkerchief  to  her  lips.  A  drop  of 
crimson  blood  stained  the  fine  linen,  but 
Alicia  hastily  folded  the  handkerchief  as  she 
murmured  : 

"  Oh,  thanks,  Paul  !  You  have  made  me 
so  happy  !  I  thought  you  no  longer  loved 
me  !  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  movement  made  by  Alicia  to  conceal 
her  handkerchief  was  not  prompt  enough, 
however,  to  escape  M.  d'Aspremont's  notice  ; 
a  frightful  pallor  spread  o'er  Paul's  features, 
for  in  this  he  perceived  an  irrefutable  proof 
of  his  fatal  power,  and  all  sorts  of  strange 
thoughts  flitted  through  his  mind.  Was  it 
not  his  duty  to  put  an  end  to  himself  as  a 
public  malefactor,  the  unconscious  perpetra- 
tor of  so  much  misery  ?  He  would  have 
willingly  bent  his  form  under  the  severest 
punishment  and  borne  it  without  flinching,  but 
the  thought  of  depriving  the  one  he  loved 
above  all  else  on  earth  of  life,  nearly  made 
him  frantic. 

The  brave  girl  had  not  given  way  to  the 
painful  sensation  she  experienced  as  Paul  di- 
rected his  eyes  upon  her — although  it  coin- 


92  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

cided  precisely  with  the  Comte  d'Altavilla's 
description.  But,  as  we  have  said  before, 
Alicia  was  not  superstitious.  Besides,  were 
she  convinced  beyond  all  doubt  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  fascino  in  Paul  she  would  not 
have  recoiled,  and  Miss  Ward  would  have 
preferred  to  be  stricken  dead  by  a  glance 
from  the  man  she  loved,  rather  than  break 
her  vow.  Alicia  resembled,  in  more  ways 
than  one,  Shakespeare's  determined  heroines, 
whose  love  is  pure  and  constant,  and,  when 
once  pledged,  is  retained  forever.  She  had 
pressed  Paul's  hand,  and  no  other  living  man 
would  ever  hold  her  shapely  hand  in  his.  She 
considered  herself  pledged  beyond  recall,  and 
would  have  shrunk  from  the  idea  of  any  other 
union. 

Her  gayety  was,  therefore,  so  natural  or  so 
well  assumed,  that  she  would  have  deceived 
the  most  attentive  observer,  and,  bidding  Paul 
who  was  still  kneeling  at  her  feet,  to  rise,  she 
took  his  arm  and  led  him  through  the  wild 
and  dense  shrubbery  of  the  garden  until  they 
reached  a  clearing  through  which  they  per- 
ceived the  blue  sea  stretching  out  before  them 
its  calm,  endless  expanse.  This  beautiful  vis- 
ion dispersed  all  of  Paul's  sombre  thoughts  ; 
Alicia  confidingly  leaned  upon  his  arm,  as  if 
she  already  considered  herself  his  wife.  The 
two  lovers  finally  regained  the  terrace,  where 


JETTATURA.  93 

the  Commodore,  still  under  the  spell  cast  upon 
him  by  the  music,  was  fast  asleep  in  his  bam- 
boo chair.  Paul  took  his  departure,  and 
Alicia,  imitating  the  gestures  of  the  Neapoli- 
tans, sent  him  a  kiss  on  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
as  she  remarked  :  "  Until  to-morrow,  dear 
Paul,"  in  a  voice  full  of  tenderness  and  love. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are  to-day,  Alicia  !  " 
suddenly  remarked  the  Commodore,  awak- 
ened from  his  nap,  as  he  noticed  the  glowing 
color  on  his  niece's  cheek. 

"  You  spoil  me,  uncle  ;  and  if  I  am  not  the 
vainest  girl  in  the  three  kingdoms  it  is  cer- 
tainly no  fault  of  yours.  Fortunately  I  do 
not  believe  in  flattery,  even  if  it  is  disin- 
terested." 

"  You  are  beautiful,  dangerously  beautiful,' 
continued  the  Commodore,  speaking  to  him- 
self. "  She  reminds  me  of  her  mother,  poor 
Nancy,  who  died  on  her  nineteenth  birthday. 
Such  angels  are  not  destined  for  this  earth  ; 
at  any  moment  wings  are  likely  to  make  their 
appearance  on  their  shoulders  ;  they  are  too 
white,  too  pure,  too  perfect,  the  red  blood  of 
life  is  missing  in  these  ethereal  beings.  The 
Almighty,  who  blesses  the  earth  with  their 
presence  for  a  few  years,  seems  impatient 
to  regain  possession  of  them.  This  dazzling 
beauty  saddens  my  heart  ;  it  seems  almost 
like  the  final  parting." 


94  ROMA  NTIC  L 1BRA  R  Y. 

"  Well  then,  uncle,  since  I  am  so  pretty  it  is 
high  time  for  me  to  marry,"  continued  Miss 
Ward,  who  noticed  the  frown  gathering  on 
the  Commodore's  brow  ;  "  the  veil  and  the 
orange-blossoms  would  become  me  well,  I 
fancy." 

"  You  wish  to  marry  !  Are  you  then  so 
anxious  to  leave  your  old  weather-beaten 
uncle,  Alicia  ? " 

"  I  will  never  leave  you,  since  M.  d'Aspre- 
mont  agreed  that  we  should  all  live  together. 
You  know  perfectly  well  I  could  never  bear 
to  part  from  you." 

"  M.  d'Aspremont !  M.  d'Aspremont ! — The 
wedding  has  not  taken  place,  however — 

"  Has  he  not  your  word — and  mine  ?  Sir 
Joshua  Ward  has  never  broken  faith." 

"  I  admit  that  he  has  my  word  ;  there  is  no 
use  denying  that,"  replied  the  Commodore, 
evidently  embarrassed. 

"  And  the  six  months'  limit  you  stipulated 
has  expired — since  a  few  days,"  continued 
Alicia,  with  increasing  color. 

"  Ah  !  so  you  have  counted  the  months,  my 
girl  ;  you  had  better  not  place  too  much  con- 
dence  in  his  discreet  manner." 

"  I  love  M.  d'Aspremont,"  replied  the  girl 
simply. 

"  This  is  the  climax!  "  exclaimed  Sir  Joshua 
Ward,  who  imbued  with  Vice's  and  d'Alta- 


JETTATURA.  95 

villa's  quaint  notions,  did  not  in  the  least  like 
the  idea  of  having  a  jettatore  for  a  son-in-law. 
"  Why  can't  you  have  somebody  else  !  " 

"  I  have  not  two  hearts,"  answered  Alicia, 
"  and  I  can  have  but  one  love,  even  though  I 
were  to  die,  like  my  mother,  at  nineteen." 

"  Don't  talk  such  nonsense  !  the  idea  of 
mentioning  death.  I  beg  you  to  change  the 
subject,"  implored  the  Commodore. 

"  Have  you  anything  with  which  to  re- 
proach M.  d'Aspremont  ?" 

"  Nothing — decidedly  nothing." 

"  Has  he  forfeited  his  honor  in  any  possi- 
ble way  ?  Has  he  ever  shown  himself  to  be 
a  coward  or  a  liar  ?  Has  he  ever  insulted  a 
woman  or  recoiled  before  a  man  ?  Is  his 
coat-of-arms  tarnished  by  any  secret  taint  ? 
Can  not  a  young  girl  take  his  arm  in  public 
without  having  to  blush  or  lower  her  eyes  ?  " 

"  M.  Paul  d'Aspremont  is  a  perfect  gentle- 
man ;  no  one  can  reproach  him  on  that 
score." 

"  Believe  me,  uncle,  when  I  assure  you  that 
if  any  such  reason  existed  I  would  renounce 
him  without  the  slightest  hesitation,  and  would 
bury  myself  in  some  inaccessible  retreat ;  but 
for  no  other  reason,  do  you  hear,  will  I  break 
my  word,"  added  Miss  Ward,  in  a  gentle 
though  determined  tone. 

The  Commodore  toyed  with  his  thumbs,  an 


9&  ROMANTIC  LIBRAE  Y. 

invariable  habit  of  his  when  he  was  at  a  loss 
what  to  say. 

.  "  Why  are  you  so  cold  to  Paul  ?  "  contin- 
ued Miss  Ward  ;  "  formerly,  you  were  so  fond 
of  him ;  why,  you  couldn't  get  along  with- 
out him  in  your  house  at  Lincolnshire,  and 
you  used  to  tell  him,  while  you  nearly 
squeezed  his  fingers  into  a  jelly,  that  he  was 
a  worthy  lad  and  that  you  would  willingly 
confide  the  happiness  of  a  young  girl  to  his 
keeping." 

"  Why,  of  course,  1  loved  Paul,"  said  the 
Commodore,  evidently  moved  by  these  recol- 
lections ;  "  but  that  which  is  obscure  in  the 
English  fog  becomes  as  clear  as  daylight  in 
the  sun  of  Naples — " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Alicia,  trem- 
bling in  spite  of  herself,  while  the  color  fled 
from  her  cheeks,  leaving  her  white  as 
marble. 

"  I  mean  that  your  Paul  is  possessed  —  he 
is  a  jettatore." 

"  What  !  you  !  my  uncle  ;  you,  Sir  Joshua 
Ward,  a  nobleman,  a  Christian,  a  subject  of 
Her  British  Majesty,  a  former  officer  in  the 
English  navy,  an  enlightened  and  civilized 
being,  whom  one  would  not  hesitate  to  ques- 
tion on  any  subject — you  who  are  wise  and 
highly  educated,  you  who  read  the  Bible  and 
the  Gospel  every  night — you  do  not  hesitate 


JETTATURA.  97 

to  accuse  Paul  of  being  a  jettatore  !  Oh  !  I 
never  expected  this  iromyou!" 

"  My  dear  Alicia,"  replied  the  Commodore, 
"  as  long  as  you  are  not  concerned,  I  may  be 
all  you  claim,  but  when  a  danger  —  even  an 
imaginary  danger,  do  you  understand  — 
threatens  you,  I  become  more  superstitious 
than  a  peasant  of  the  Abruzzes,  a  lazzarone 
of  Chiaja,  or  even  a  Neapolitan  comte.  Paul 
can  look  at  me  as  long  as  he  has  a  mind  to 
with  his  fatal  eyes,  I  will  remain  as  calm  as 
if  facing  the  point  of  a  sword  or  the  barrel 
of  a  pistol.  The  fascino  won't  take  on  my 
tough  hide,  tanned  by  all  the  suns  of  the  uni- 
verse. I  am  only  credulous  on  your  account, 
dear  Alicia,  and  I  confess  that  I  feel  a  cold 
perspiration  dampening  my  forehead  every- 
time  the  unfortunate  lad  turns  his  eyes  upon 
you.  He  has  no  evil  intentions,  I  know,  and 
he  loves  you  dearer  than  life  itself,  but  it 
seems  to  me  that,  under  his  influence,  your 
features  change,  your  color  disappears,  and 
that  you  attempt  to  conceal  a  terrible  pain  ; 
and  then  I  am  seized  with  a  furious  desire  to 
dig  out  the  eyes  of  your  Paul  d'Aspremont 
with  the  point  of  the  horns  presented  by  d'Al- 
tavilla." 

"  My  poor,  dear  uncle,"  said  Alicia,  deeply 
moved  by  this  sudden  outburst  on  the  part  of 
the  old  Commodore  ;  "  our  lives  are  in  the 


98  ROMA  NTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

hands  of  God  ;  not  a  prince  expires  on  his 
royal  couch,  not  a  beggar  dies  on  his  humble 
cot,  but  his  time  has  been  marked  in  heaven  ; 
the  fascino  is  powerless  to  do  bodily  injury, 
and  it  is  a  crime  for  us  to  believe  that  a  pe- 
culiar look  can  exert  evil  influence  upon  us. 
Now  you  know  perfectly  well,  uncle,  you  were 
not  speaking  seriously  a  moment  ago  ;  your 
love  for  me,  no  doubt,  affected  your  judg- 
ment. Am  I  not  right  ?  Now,  you  would 
not  dare  tell  M.  d'Aspremont  that  you  would 
withdraw  the  hand  of  your  niece  after  you 
had  placed  it  within  his,  and  that  you  no  lon- 
ger desired  him  as  a  son-in-law,  on  the  absurd 
plea  that  he  was — a  jettatore  !  " 

"  By  Joshua,  my  patron  saint,  who  stopped 
the  sun  in  its  course  !  "  exclaimed  the  Com- 
modore ;  "  I  would  not  hurt  the  feelings  of 
your  pretty  M.  Paul  for  anything.  But  what 
matters  it  to  me  whether  I  appear  ridiculous, 
absurd,  or  unloyal,  when  your  health,  your 
life  perhaps,  is  at  stake  !  I  gave  your  hand 
in  wedlock  to  a  man,  not  to  a  charmer.  I 
pledged  my  word  ;  well,  then,  I  will  retract 
my  promise — that's  all  !  and  if  he  isn't  satis- 
fied, I  will  give  him  all  the  satisfaction  he  de- 


sires 


And  the  Commodore,  exasperated  beyond 
measure,  made  an  imaginary  thrust,  as  if  he 
was  attacking  an  adversary,  heedless  of  the 


JETTATURA.  99 

fact  that  he  was  suffering  from  a  severe  at- 
tack of  gout. 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir  Joshua  Ward,  but  you 
would  never  do  that,"  calmly  remarked 
Alicia. 

The  Commodore  seated  himself  in  his  bam- 
boo chair,  all  out  of  breath,  and  remained  si- 
lent. 

"  Well  then,  uncle,  even  though  this 
frightful  accusation  were  true,  would  it  be 
honorable  to  abandon  M.  d'Aspremont  when 
he  is  guilty  of  a  misfortune  and  not  of  a 
crime  ?  Are  you  not  aware  that  the  harm  he 
might  cause  would  not  be  occasioned  by  his 
will,  and  that  you  have  never  seen  a  more 
noble,  generous,  or  loving  disposition  in  man 
before  ? " 

"  One  does  not  marry  a  vampire — no  matter 
how  good  the  brute's  intentions  may  be," 
grumbled  the  Commodore. 

"  But  all  this  is  chimerical,  absurd,  and 
superstitious  ;  what  is  worse,  however,  is  that 
Paul  has  become  alarmed  at  this  superstition, 
and  he  is  afraid  of  himself ;  he  believes  in 
his  fatal  power,  and  every  little  accident 
convinces  him  that  he  is  correct  in  this  sup- 
position. Is  it  not  my  duty,  I  who  am  his 
wife  in  the  eyes  of  Heaven,  and  who  will  soon 
be  his  in  the  eyes  of  the  world — blessed  by 
you,  dear  uncle — to  calm  this  excited  imagi- 


I  oo  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRA  R  Y. 

nation,  to  chase  away  these  phantoms,  to  al- 
lay by  kind  words  this  wild  anxiety,  and 
thus  save  from  destruction  this  noble  soul  ?  " 

"You  are  always*  right,  Alicia,"  replied 
the  Commodore,  "  and  I,  whom  you  have  just 
called  wise,  am  only  an  old  madman.  I 
believe  that  this  Vice  is  a  witch,  and  that  she 
has  turned  my  head  with  all  her  nonsense. 
As  to  the  Comte  d'Altavilla,  with  his  horns  and 
his  collection  of  coral  charms,  he  strikes  me 
as  being  a  fool.  No  doubt,  it  was  a  stratagem 
on  his  part  to  get  Paul  out  of  the  way  in 
order  to  win  you  himself." 

"  It  may  be  that  the  Comte  d'Altavilla  acted 
as  he  did  in  perfectly  good  faith,"  remarked 
Alicia  with  a  smile  ;  "  only  a  short  time  ago, 
you  shared  his  opinions  on  the  jettatura." 

"  Do  not  abuse  your  advantage,  Miss 
Alicia  ;  besides,  I  have  not  so  fully  recovered 
from  my  mistake  that  I  may  not  err  again. 
The  wisest  thing,  in  my  estimation,  would  be 
to  leave  Naples  by  the  first  steamer  and 
return  quietly  to  England.  When  Paul  will 
not  have  bull's  horns,  deer  antlers,  coral 
charms,  extended  fingers,and  all  those  devilish 
arrangements  constantly  before  him,  he  will 
recover  his  former  peace  of  mind,  while  I  will 
forget  this  unearthly  business,  which  almost 
made  me  break  my  word  and  commit  an 
action  unworthy  of  a  gentleman.  Since  it 


JETTATURA.  IOI 

has  been  so  arranged,  you  will  marry  Paul. 
You  will  reserve  the  parlor  and  the  ground 
floor  of  the  house  in  Richmond  for  me,  and 
the  left  wing  in  the  castle  in  Lincolnshire,  and 
we  will  all  live  happily  together  in  England. 
If  your  health  requires  a  warmer  climate,  we 
will  rent  a  country  seat  at  Cannes,  where  Lord 
Brougham's  beautiful  place  is  situated,  and 
where,  thank  Heaven!  this  superstition  relat- 
ing to  the  jettatura  is  unknown.  What  do 
you  think  of  my  plan,  Alicia  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  require  my  approval;  am  I 
not  the  most  obedient  of  nieces  ?  " 

"Yes — when  I  do  what  you  want  me  to  do, 
you  little  minx,"  laughingly  remarked  the 
Commodore  as  he  entered  the  villa. 

Alicia  remained  on  the  terrace  a  few 
minutes  longer;  but  whether  this  scene  had 
affected  her  to  such  a  degree,  or  whether  Paul 
had. really  exercised  his  fearful  power  on  the 
young  girl,  the  warm  breeze  chilled  her 
through  and  through,  and  at  night,  as  she  was 
feeling  uncomfortable,  she  requested  Vice 
to  wrap  up  her  feet,  which  were  as  white  and 
cold  as  marble,  in  one  of  those  pretty  knitted 
robes  they  make  in  Venice. 

However,  the  glow-worms  glittered  among 
the  shrubbery  and  the  crickets  chirped,  while 
the  yellow  moon  ascended  the  sky  in  a  haze 
of  light  and  heat. 


102  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  day  following  that  on  which  the  scene 
recorded  above  took  place,  Alicia,  who  had 
passed  a  miserable  night,  scarcely  touched 
the  potion  Vice  gave  her  every  morning,  and 
placed  it  carelessly  on  the  stand  by  the  side 
of  the  bed.  While  she  did  not  feel  any  pain 
in  particular,  she  was  completely  worn  out. 
She  requested  Vice  to  give  her  a  hand-glass, 
for  a  young  girl  worries  more  about  the  al- 
teration of  her  features  caused  by  illness 
than  about  the  malady  itself.  She  was 
deathly  pale,  with  the  exception  of  two  little 
red  spots,  however,  looking  for  all  the  world 
like  a  couple  of  red  rose-leaves  in  a  bowl  of 
milk.  Her  eyes  shone  with  unwonted  bril- 
liancy, lighted  by  the  remaining  sparks  of  a 
burning  fever  ;  but  the  bright  red  of  her  lips 
was  not  as  pronounced  as  usual,  and,  in  order 
to  restore  their  accustomed  color,  she  bit 
them  with  her  white  teeth. 

She  arose  from  her  couch,  and  enveloped 
herself  in  a  dressing-gown  of  white  cashmere, 
winding  the  gauze  scarf  around  her  neck,  for 
although  the  crickets  chirped  in  the  warmth 
outside,  she  felt  chilly,  and  she  made  her  ap- 
pearance on  the  terrace  at  the  accustomed 
hour  in  order  not  to  arouse  her  uncle's  sus- 


JETTATURA.  103 

picions.  She  partook  of  a  slight  repast, 
although  she  was  not  hungry  at  all,  for  the 
faintest  indication  of  an  indisposition  would 
have  been  accredited  to  Paul's  evil  influence, 
and  this  was  precisely  what  Alicia  wished  to 
avoid. 

Then,  excusing  herself  on  the  plea  that  the 
bright  sun  was  too  strong  for  her,  she  retired 
to  her  room,  not,  however,  before  assuring 
her  uncle  that  she  had  never  felt  better  in  all 
her  life. 

"  I  hardly  believe  that,"  the  Commodore 
muttered  to  himself  after  she  had  retired  ; 
"  she  has  a  couple  of  bright  spots  near  the 
eyes,  just  like  her  mother,  who  also  pretended 
to  have  never  felt  better  in  all  her  life.  What's 
to  be  done  ?  To  get  Paul  out  of  the  way 
would  only  hasten  her  death  ;  I  must  let 
Nature  have  its  way.  Alicia  is  so  young  ! 
But  it  is  just  such  young  people  that  grim 
Death  craves  for  ;  he  is  as  jealous  as  a  wo- 
man. Possibly  I  had  better  send  for  a  physi- 
cian,— although  of  what  use  is  medicine  to  an 
angel  ?  And  yet,  all  the  symptoms  had  dis- 
appeared. Ah  !  if  it  should  be  you,  accursed 
Paul,  whose  breath  thus  destroys  this  divine 
flower,  I  would  strangle  you  with  my  own 
hands.  Nancy  was  not  under  the  influence 
of  the  jettatore,  and  yet  she  died. — What  if 
Alicia  should  die  !  No,  it  is  not  possible. 


104  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

I  have  not  offended  the  Almighty  in  any  pos- 
sible way  that  He  should  reserve  such  a  ter- 
rible punishment  for  me.  When  that  comes 
to  pass,  I  shall  have  already  been  sleeping  for 
many  years  in  my  native  village  under  a 
stone  inscribed,  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Sir 
Joshua  Ward.  It  is  she  who  will  go  and 
pray  on  the  moss-covered  grave  of  the  old 
Commodore.  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter 
with  me,  but  I  am  as  blue  and  melancholy  as 
old  Harry  himself  this  morning  !  " 

In  order  to  dispel  these  unpleasant 
thoughts,  the  commodore  added  a  little  more 
Jamaica  rum  to  his  cold  tea,  and  sent  for  his 
houka,  an  innocent  recreation  which  he  only 
permitted  himself  in  the  absence  of  Alicia, 
whose  delicate  constitution  would  not  have 
supported  even  this  light  smoke  mingled  with 
perfumes. 

He  had  already  boiled  the  aromatic  water, 
and  had  blown  three  or  four  bluish  clouds 
towards  the  sky,  when  Vice  announced  the 
Comte  d'Altavilla. 

"  Sir  Joshua,"  said  the  Comte  after  the 
usual  formalities,  "  have  you  thought  over 
my  request  of  the  other  day  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  it  over,  Comte,"  replied 
the  Commodore  ;  "but  you  know  my  word  is 
pledged  to  M.  Paul  d'Aspremont." 

"  That  may  be,   and  yet  there   are  cases 


JETTATURA.  105 

where  promises  have  been  retracted  ;  for  in- 
stance, when  it  is  pledged  to  a  man  who  sub- 
sequently turns  out  to  be  an  altogether  differ- 
ent personage  from  what  he  seemed  to  be  at 
first." 

"  I  beg  of  you,  Comte,  to  speak  plainer  ;  I 
do  not  understand  you." 

"I  dislike  the  idea  of  accusing  a  rival,  but 
you  must  certainly  understand  what  I  have 
reference  to  from  the  hints  I  let  fall  at  our 
last  meeting.  If  you  had  M.  Paul  d'Aspre- 
mont  out  of  the  way,  would  you  accept  me 
for  a  son-in-law  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  would  be  de- 
lighted ;  but  it  is  not  at  all  likely  that  Miss 
Ward  would  like  any  such  substitution.  She 
is  head  over  ears  in  love  with  this  Paul ;  it  is 
partly  my  fault,  as  I  encouraged  the  lad 
before  I  got  wind  of  these  stories — I  beg 
your  pardon,  Comte,  but  I  am  hardly  ac- 
countable for  my  words  this  morning." 

"  Then  you  really  wish  your  niece  to  die  ? " 
demanded  d'Altavilla,  seriously. 

"  Thunder  and  lightning  !  my  niece  die  !  " 
exclaimen  the  Commodore,  springing  from 
his  chair  and  hurling  aside  the  morocco- 
covered  tube  of  the  houka.  "  Is  she  then 
dangerously  ill  ? " 

"  Don't  alarm  yourself,  milord  ;  Miss  Alicia 
may  live,  and  live  very  long  at  that." 


106  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

"  Bravo  !  that's  the  way  I  like  to  hear  you 
talk  ;  you  almost  took  my  breath  away — you 
fairly  struck  me  amidships." 

"  But  on  one  condition,"  added  the  Comte 
d'Altavilla  ;  "  and  that  is,  that  she  never 
again  lays  eyes  on  M.  Paul  d'Aspremont." 

"  Ah  !  the  subject  of  the  fascino  is  again 
cropping  out !  Unfortunately,  Miss  Ward 
does  not  believe  in  it." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  continued  the  Comte,  not 
at  all  dismayed  by  the  old  Commodore's  want 
of  sympathy.  "  When  I  first  met  Miss  Alicia 
at  the  ball  given  by  the  Prince  of  Syracuse, 
and  I  conceived  this  ardent  passion  for  her, 
I  was  smitten  by  the  healthy,  robust  appear- 
ance of  your  niece.  Her  beauty  was  fairly 
dazzling,  and  it  eclipsed  that  of  other  Eng- 
lish, Russian,  and  Italian  belles.  To  the 
British  air  of  distinction  was  added  the  noble 
grace  of  the  ancient  goddesses  ;  pardon  this 
mythology  on  the  part  of  a  descendant  of  a 
Greek  colony." 

"  She  was  indeed  superb  !  Miss  Edwina 
O'Herty,  Lady  Eleanor  Lilly,  Miss  Jane 
Strangford,  and  the  Princess  Ve"ra  Fe"dorowna 
Bariatinski  were  so  envious  that  they  almost 
had  an  attack  of  jaundice,"  the  Commodore 
approvingly  remarked. 

"  And  have  you  not  noticed  that  her  former 
beauty  has  been  replaced  by  a  jaded,  worn- 


JETTATURA.  107 

out  appearance,  that  her  features  have  lost 
some  of  their  remarkable  symmetry,  and  that 
the  veins  of  her  hand  are  plainly  visible 
through  her  clear  white  skin,  while  her  voice 
has  a  strange  though,  melodious  vibration  ? 
The  terrestrial  appearance  has  been  replaced 
by  an  angelic  being.  Miss  Alicia  is  rapidly 
assuming  that  beautiful,  though  ethereal  ap- 
pearance I  do  not  fancy  in  worldly  beings." 

What  the  Comte  said  agreed  exactly  with 
the  Commodore's  secret  impressions,  and  he 
remained  as  if  in  a  dream  for  some  little  time. 

"  All  this  is  quite  true  ;  and  although  I 
frequently  try  to  pretend  that  it  is  a  mere 
freak  of  my  imagination,  I  cannot  dispute  the 
truth  of  your  assertion." 

"  Pardon  me,"  interrupted  the  Comte,  "  but 
did  you  remark  any  of  these  symptoms  pre- 
vious to  M.  d'Aspremont's  arrival  in  Eng- 
land ? " 

"  Never  !  she  was  the  heartiest  and  gay- 
est lass  in  the  three  kingdoms." 

"  M.  d'Aspremont's  presence  therefore  tal- 
lies with  the  periodical  attacks  which  have 
so  affected  Miss  Ward's  health.  I  do  not 
ask  you  to  place  faith  in  the  quaint  supersti- 
tion of  our  country,  but  you  will  certainly 
agree  that  these  strange  facts  are  deserving 
of  your  attention — " 

"  But  Alicia — her  illness  may  result  from 


108  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

natural  causes  after  all,"  said  the  Commo- 
dore, partly  convinced  by  d'Altavilla's  rea- 
soning, although  his  English  pride  struggled 
against  the  popular  Neapolitan  belief. 

"  Miss  Ward  is  not  ill ;  she  is  being  poi- 
soned by  M.  d'Aspremont's  glance,  which,  if 
it  does  not  possess  the  fascino  of  the  jetta- 
tore,  is  at  all  events  fatal." 

"What  can  I  do?  She  loves  Paul;  she 
laughs  at  the  superstition  of  the  fascino,  and 
claims  that  one  can  not  give  such  an  excuse 
to  a  man  of  honor  for  refusal." 

"  I  have  no  right  to  occupy  myself  with 
your  niece's  affairs  ;  I  am  neither  her  brother, 
her  cousin,  nor  her  affianced  husband  ;  but, 
if  I  obtain  your  permission,  I  will  make  a 
desperate  effort  to  save  her  from  this  fatal 
influence.  Oh  !  do  not  be  alarmed  ;  I  will 
do  nothing  rash  ;  although  I  am  quite  young, 
I  am  old  enough  to  realize  the  injustice  of 
causing  a  scandal  where  a  young  lady  is  con- 
cerned ;  but,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  question  me 
as  to  the  plan  I  propose  to  pursue — that  is 
my  secret.  I  trust,  however,  you  have  suffi- 
cient confidence  in  my  honor  to  believe  that 
I  will  act  as  discreetly  and  honorably  as  pos- 
sible." 

"  Then  you  love  my  niece  very  much  ? " 
asked  Sir  Joshua. 

"  Yes,  then,  I  love  her,  though  I  have  no 


JETTATURA.  109 

hope ;  but  kindly  grant  me  the  right  to  act 
as  I  see  fit  in  this  affair." 

"  You  are  a  terrible  man,  Comte.  Very 
well  !  you  have  my  permission  to  do  as  you 
see  fit.  Try  to  save  Alicia — that  is  all  I  ask 
you." 

The  Comte  bowed  politely,  and,  entering 
his  carriage,  he  directed  the  coachman  to 
drive  to  the  Hotel  de  Rome. 

Paul,  with  his  elbows  on  the  table,  was 
plunged  in  deep  thought  ;  he  had  seen  the 
drop  of  blood  discolor  Alicia's  handkerchief, 
and  was  convinced  that  he  alone  was  to 
blame.  He  reproached  himself  with  his  mur- 
derous love  ;  he  blamed  himself  for  accept- 
ing the  devotion  of  this  beautiful  young  girl 
who  was  determined  to  die  for  him,  and  he 
asked  himself  by  what  superhuman  sacrifice 
he  could  repay  this  sublime  abnegation. 

Paddy  interrupted  him  in  his  revery  by 
presenting  the  Comte  d'Akavilla's  card. 

"  The  Comte  d'Altavilla  !  what  brings  him 
here?"  questioned  Paul,  taken  completely  by 
surprise  at  this  unexpected  visit.  "  Show 
him  in." 

When  the  Neapolitan  appeared  on  the 
threshold  of  the  door,  M.  d'Aspremont  had 
already  assumed  the  mask  of  indifference 
under  which  men  of  the  world  conceal  their 
impressions. 


1 10  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

With  marked  politeness,  he  pointed  to  an 
arm-chair,  while  he  seated  himself  on  a  lounge 
and  waited  patiently,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  visitor,  for  the  latter  to  begin. 

"Monsieur,"  began  the  Comte  as  he  played 
with  the  charms  on  his  watch-chain,  "  what 
I  have  to  say  is  so  strange,  so  out  of  place, 
and  so  unbecoming  that  you  have  the  right 
to  throw  me  out  of  the  window.  I  trust, 
however,  you  will  spare  me  this  brutal  treat- 
ment, as  I  am  prepared  to  render  you  repara- 
tion when  and  where  you  please." 

"  I  am  listening,  monsieur,  and  accept  the 
offer  you  make  me  in  case  your  conversation 
displeases  me,"  replied  Paul,  without  moving 
a  muscle  of  his  face. 

"  You  are  a  jettatore  !  " 

At  these  words,  a  greenish  tinge  spread  o'er 
Paul's  countenance,  a  red  aureole  encircled 
his  eyes  ;  his  eyebrows  drew  closer  together, 
the  furrow  in  his  forehead  grew  larger,  while 
his  eyes  darted  forth  flashes  of  lightning  ;  he 
raised  himself  partly  in  his  chair,  tearing  the 
lining  away  in  his  nervous  grasp.  The  spec- 
tacle was  so  terrible  that  d'Altavilla,  brave 
man  though  he  was,  seized  one  of  the  little 
coral  branches  on  his  chain  and  instinctively 
brought  the  sharp  point  to  bear  upon  his 
vis-ci-vis. 

By  a  superhuman  effort,  M.  d'Aspremont 


JETTATURA.  Ill 

regained  his  self-possession  and  re- 
marked : 

"  You  were  right,  monsieur  ;  you  are  en- 
titled to  the  reward  you  spoke  of  for  such  an 
insult ;  but  I  will  bide  my  time  to  obtain  a 
more  suitable  reparation." 

"  Believe  me,"  responded  the  Comte,  "  I 
would  not  have  permitted  myself  to  offer  to 
a  gentleman  such  an  insult,  which  can  only 
be  wiped  out  in  blood,  unless  I  had  a  serious 
reason  for  so  doing.  I  love  Miss  Alicia 
Ward." 

"  What  matters  this  to  me  ? " 

"  As  you  say,  it  matters  very  little  to  you, 
for  she  loves  you;  but  I,  Don  Felipe  d'Alta- 
villa,  forbid  you  to  call  upon  Miss  Ward 
again." 

"  I  have  no  orders  to  receive  from  you." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  the  Neapolitan  ; 
"  And  I  certainly  do  not  expect  that  you  will 
obey  me." 

"  Then  what  other  motive  has  prompted 
you  to  speak  thus?"  asked  Paul. 

"  I  am  convinced  that  the  fascino  by  which 
you  have  involuntarily  charmed  Miss  Ward 
has  resulted  most  unfortunately  for  her.  It  is 
an  absurd  idea,  a  prejudice  worthy  of  the 
dark  ages — I  will  not  discuss  this  with  you. 
In  spite  of  yourself  your  eyes  have  directed 
themselves  upon  Miss  Ward,  and  you  are  kill- 


1 1 2  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRA  R  Y. 

ing  her  with  your  fatal  glance.  There  is  no 
other  way  to  avoid  this  sad  catastrophe  than 
by"  seeking  a  quarrel.  If  we  had  lived  in  the 
sixteenth  century  I  would  have  ordered  my 
tenants  to  strangle  you  in  the  maintains,  but 
these  customs  are  now  out  of  date.  At  first 
I  thought  seriously  of  requesting  you  to  re- 
turn to  France  ;  but  that  was  too  simple  ; 
you  would  have  laughed  at  a  rival  who  would 
have  thus  coolly  asked  you  to  go  away,  leaving 
him  alone  with  your  fiancee,  on  the  ground 
that  you  were  a  jettatore." 

While  the  Comte  d'Altavilla  was  speaking, 
Paul  d'Aspremont  was  a  victim  of  the  most 
violent  emotions.  Was  it  really  possible  that 
he,  a  Christian,  was  in  the  devil's  clutches,  and 
that  the  light  of  Hell  shone  from  his  eyes  ? 
That  he  planted  the  seeds  of  destruction 
along  his  path,  and  that  his  love  for  the  dear- 
est and  purest  woman  on  earth  would  event- 
ually cause  her  death  !  For  a  moment  his 
reason  tottered,  and  his  brain  throbbed  as  if 
it  would  burst  his  cranium. 

"  Upon  your  honor,  Comte,  do  you  believe 
what  you  say  to  be  true  ?  "  exclaimed  d'Aspre- 
mont,  after  a  short  silence  which  the  Neapol- 
itan respected. 

"  Upon  my  honor,  such  is  my  belief." 

"  Oh,  then  it  is  true  !  "  muttered  Paul  to 
himself.  I  am  therefore  an  assassin,  a  demon, 


JETTATURA.  "3 

a  vampire  !  I  am  killing  this  sweet  creature, 
breaking  the  old  Commodore's  heart  !"  and  he 
was  on  the  point  of  promising  the  Comte  that 
he  would  not  attempt  to  see  Alicia  again  ; 
but  pride  and  jealousy  asserted  themselves 
and  froze  the  words  on  his  lips. 

"  Comte,  I  hereby  warn  you  that  I  will  call 
on  Miss  Ward  the  moment  you  have  taken 
your  departure." 

"  I  will  not  seize  you  by  the  collar  to  pre- 
vent your  going  ;  however,  I  will  be  delighted 
to  meet  you  to-morrow  morning,  at  six  o'clock, 
in  the  ruins  of  Pompeii,  near  the  thermae,  if 
you  have  no  objection.  What  weapon  do 
you  prefer  ? — you  are  the  offended  party — the 
sword,  sabre,  or  pistol  ?  " 

"  We  will  fight  with  knives  and  blindfolded, 
separated  by  a  handkerchief  the  ends  of  which 
we  will  hold  in  our  left  hands.  We  must 
equalize  the  chances — I  am  a  jettatore  ;  I 
could  kill  you  with  a  glance,  monsieur  le 
Comte  !  " 

And  Paul  d'Aspremont,  bursting  into  a 
harsh  laugh,  opened  the  door  and  disappeared. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

ALICIA  had  taken  up  her  quarters  in  one 
of  the  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  villa, 
the  walls  of  which  were  frescoed  according  to 


I 14  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

the  style  prevalent  in  Italy,  where  very  little 
wall-paper  is  used.  Manilla  mats  covered  the 
floor  ;  on  a  table,  over  which  a  piece  of  Turk- 
ish carpet  was  thrown,  lay  the  poetical  works 
of  Coleridge,  Shelley,  Tennyson,  and  Long- 
fellow ;  a  mirror,  set  in  an  antique  frame,  and 
a  few  cane-bottomed  chairs  completed  the 
furniture  of  the  room.  Window-shades  of 
Chinese  bamboo,  on  which  were  designed 
dragons,  snakes,  and  all  kinds  of  quaint  birds, 
gave  a  soft  light  to  the  apartment. 

The  young  girl,  who  was  far  from  well,  was 
reclining  on  a  narrow  lounge  near  the  win- 
dow; two  or  three  Morocco  cushions  supported 
her  ;  a  Venetian  cover  was  thrown  over  her 
feet,  and  thus  prepared,  she  could  receive 
Paul  without  in  the  least  offending  the  rules 
of  English  etiquette. 

The  book  she  had  been  reading  had  slipped 
from  her  hand  ;  her  eyes  wandered  aimlessly 
beneath  her  long,  silken  lashes  and  seemed 
to  be  gazing  into  another  world  ;  she  experi- 
enced that  lassitude  which  always  follows  the 
fever,  and  was  engaged  in  chewing  the  leaves 
of  an  orange-tree  which  stretched  its  fragrant 
branches,  covered  with  blossoms,  through  the 
open  window.  Is  there  not  a  painting  of 
Venus  chewing  rose-leaves  ?  What  a  charm- 
ing companion  a  modern  artist  could  have 
painted  to  this  old  Venetian  picture,  repre- 


JETTATURA.  1 15 

seating  Alicia  munching  the  orange-blos- 
soms! 

She  was  thinking  of  M.  d'Aspremont,  and 
she  wondered  whether  she  would  live  to  see 
the  day  when  she  would  be  his  wife  ;  not 
that  she  dreaded  the  fatal  influence  of  the 
fascino,  but  she  felt  herself  giving  way  to 
strange  presentiments  :  that  very  night  she 
had  a  dream,  and  she  had  not  yet  recovered 
from  its  effects. 

In  her  dream,  she  fancied  herself  lying  in 
bed  awake,  her  eyes  riveted  on  the  open  door 
of  her  room,  where  she  momentarily  expected 
some  one  to  appear.  After  two  or  three  min- 
utes of  anxious  expectation  a  white  and  sylph- 
like  form  made  its  appearance,  enveloped 
in  a  white  cloud,  gradually  becoming  more 
distinct  as  it  approached  the  bed. 

The  apparition  was  clothed  in  a  dress  of 
white  muslin,  the  folds  of  which  trailed  on 
the  ground  ;  long  tresses  of  black  hair  fell 
about  the  pale,  white  face,  while  two  little 
red  spots  were  plainly  visible  on  her  cheeks. 
In  her  hand  the  apparition  held  a  flower,  a 
tea-rose,  the  petals  of  which,  as  they  fell  on 
the  floor,  resembled  so  many  tears. 

Alicia  did  not  know  her  mother,  who  had 
died  a  year  after  her  birth  ;  but  she  had 
frequently  stood  in  silent  contemplation  be- 
fore a  faded  miniature  of  Nancy  Ward,  and 


1 1 6  ROMANTIC  LIBRAE  Y. 

from  the  resemblance  she  realized  that  it  was 
her  mother  who  stood  before  her  now  :  the 
white  dress,  the  black  hair,  the  white  cheeks 
tinted  with  pink,  even  the  tea-rose  were  repro- 
duced as  she  had  seen  them  in  the  portrait — 
only  it  was  the  miniature  enlarged  and  devel- 
oped to  life-size,  an  animated,  moving  picture 
as  one  usually  beholds  in  a  dream. 

A  feeling  of  tenderness  mingled  with  fear 
seized  Alicia.  She  wanted  to  stretch  her  arms 
out  to  the  phantom,  but  she  was  unable  to 
move  them,  heavy  as  marble,  from  the  pillow 
on  which  they  were  resting.  She  attempted 
to  speak,  but  her  tongue  refused  to  articu- 
late. 

Nancy,  after  having  placed  the  tea-rose  on 
the  table,  kneeled  beside  the  bed  and  laid  her 
head  on  Alicia's  breast,  listening  to  the  res- 
piration of  the  lungs  and  counting  the  heart- 
beats. The  cold  touch  of  the  apparition  gave 
the  young  girl,  alarmed  by  this  silent  auscul- 
tation, the  sensation  of  a  piece  of  ice. 

The  apparition  rose,  and  casting  a  loving 
passionate  glance  at  the  young  girl,  began  to 
count  the  leaves  of  the  rose,  most  of  which 
had  fallen  out, — then  whispered  :  "  There  is 
only  one  more — one  more." 

A  heavy  pall  arose  between  the  sleeper  and 
the  vision,  and  it  disappeared  in  the  darkness 
as  Alicia  dropped  off  to  sleep. 


JETTATURA.  117 

Had  her  mother's  spirit  come  to  warn  her  ? 
What  significance  was  attached  to  the  mys- 
terious words,  "  There  is  only  one  more — one 
more,"  as  whispered  by  the  apparition  ?  Was 
this  pale,  drooping  rose  the  symbol  of  her 
life  ?  This  strange  dream,  with  its  horrible 
yet  charming  details,  this  beautiful  spectre 
draped  in  muslin  which  counted  the  petals  of 
the  faded  flower,  filled  the  young  girl's  breast 
with  fear,  a  cloud  of  sadness  gathered  about 
her  lovely  forehead,  and  strange  thoughts 
occupied  her  mind. 

This  orange-branch  which  shook  out  its 
blossoms  in  profusion  about  her  had  some- 
thing mournful  about  it  as  well.  Were  the  lit- 
tle white  stars  therefore  not  destined  to  glisten 
on  her  bridal  veil  ?  With  a  movement  of 
horror,  Alicia  withdrew  the  flower  she  was 
biting  from  her  lips — the  blossom  was  already 
discolored  and  faded.  .  .  . 

The  time  for  M.  d'Aspremont's  expected 
visit  drew  near.  Miss  Ward  struggled  bravely 
against  the  feeling  that  oppressed  her  ;  she 
passed  her  hand  through  her  hair  and 
readjusted  the  folds  of  her  scarf,  while  she 
picked  up  the  fallen  book  in  order  to  appear 
engaged  when  the  visitor  should  make  his 
appearance. 

Paul  arrived  at  last,  and  Miss  Ward  wel- 
comed him  with  a  forced  laugh,  as  she  did  not 


1 1 8  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

wish  to  alarm  him  for  fear  he  would  accuse 
himself  as  being  the  cause  of  her  illness. 
The  scene  he  had  just  had  with  the  Comte 
d'Altavilla  gave  Paul  a  savage  and  irritated 
appearance,  which  caused  Vice  to  make  the 
cabalistic  sign,  but  Alicia's  loving  smile  soon 
dispelled  the  clouds  which  had  gathered 
about  his  brow. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  seriously  ill,  Alicia," 
he  said  as  he  seated  himself  beside  her." 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing,  I  assure  you  ;  I  am  a 
little  tired,  that  is  all  :  the  sirocco  paid  us  a 
visit  yesterday,  and  that  African  wind  is 
always  too  much  for  me.  Just  you  wait  until 
we  get  back  to  Lincolnshire  and  you  shall 
see  how  well  I  am  !  Now  that  I  have  re- 
covered my  strength,  I  will  take  my  turn  at 
the  oars  as  we  take  our  daily  row  on  the 
lake ! " 

As  she  said  this  she  could  not  restrain  a 
convulsive  cough. 

M.  d'Aspremont  turned  pale  and  lowered 
his  eyes. 

A  long  silence  ensued.  Alicia  was  the 
first  to  speak. 

"  I  have  never  given  you  anything,  Paul," 
she  said  as  she  removed  a  plain  gold  band 
from  her  wasted  finger  ;  "  take  this  ring  and 
wear  it  in  memory  of  me  ;  it  will  fit  you,  as 
your  hand  is  no  larger  than  a  woman's. 


JETTATURA.  119 

Good-bye !  I  don't  feel  well  and  I  would 
like  to  sleep  a  little.  Come  and  see  me  to- 
morrow." 

Paul  withdrew  with  a  heavy  heart ;  the 
efforts  made  by  Alicia  to  conceal  her  suffer- 
ing were  useless  ;  he  loved  Miss  Ward  to 
distraction,  and  yet  he  was  killing  her.  Was 
not  this  ring  she  had  just  given  him,  a  pledge 
that  they  would  meet  in  the  next  world  ? 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  beach  like  a 
madman,  dreaming  of  flight.  He  contem- 
plated entering  a  Trappist  convent,  there  to 
await  his  death  seated  on  his  coffin,  without 
ever  raising  the  cowl  of  his  frock.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  was  cowardly  and  ungrateful,  not  to 
sacrifice  his  love,  and  to  cease  this  abuse  of 
Alicia's  heroism  :  for  she  knew  everything,  she 
was  aware  that  he  was  a  jettatore,  as  the  Comte 
d'Altavilla  had  already  proclaimed  him  to  be, 
and,  seized  by  an  angelic  desire  to  do  good, 
she  did  not  spurn  his  love  ! 

"  Yes,"  said  he, "  this  Neapolitan,  this  hand- 
some comte  she  scorns,  really  loves  her.  His 
passion  is  nobler  than  mine  :  to  save  Alicia, 
he  has  not  feared  to  approach  me  in  order  to 
provoke  me — me,  a  jettatore,  that  is  to  say, 
in  his  opinion,  a  being  to  be  dreaded  as  much 
as  the  devil  himself.  While  speaking  to  me, 
he  toyed  with  the  charms  on  his  watch-chain, 
and  the  eyes  of  this  celebrated  duelist,  who 


120  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

has  killed  three  men  in  his  time,  lowered 
themselves  before  mine  !  " 

On  reaching  the  Hotel  de  Rome,  Paul  wrote 
a  number  of  letters,  and  then  made  his  will, 
in  which  he  bequeathed  to  Miss  Alicia  Ward 
all  his  worldly  possessions,  with  the  exception 
of  a  legacy  for  Paddy. 

Then  he  opened  the  oak  chest  in  which  he 
kept  his  weapons  ;  it  was  separated  into  little 
compartments  in  which  were  placed  swords, 
pistols,  and  hunting-knives.  He  selected  two 
Corsican  stilettos,  of  equal  size,  after  due 
deliberation. 

They  were  long,  two-edged  blades  of  finely- 
tempered  Damascus  steel,  curious  and  ter- 
rible weapons  in  the  hands  of  desperate  men. 
Paul  also  selected  three  silk  scarfs  of  equal 
length. 

He  then  notified  Scazzigo  to  be  in  readi- 
ness to  drive  him  into  the  country  early  in  the 
morning. 

"  Oh  ! "  he  exclaimed,  throwing  himself 
upon  his  bed,  "  may  God  will  it  that  this  com- 
bat proves  fatal  to  me  !  For  if  I  have  the 
good  fortune  to  be  killed — Alicia  will  live  !  " 


JETTATURA. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

POMPEII,  the  dead  city,  does  not  wake  up 
at  daybreak  like  the  living  cities,  and  although 
she  has  partly  thrown  aside  the  mantle  of 
cinders  which  had  covered  her  during  so 
many  centuries,  she  still  sleeps  on  her  funeral 
pyre  long  after  the  sun  has  risen  in  the 
heavens. 

The  tourists  of  all  nations,  who  visit  the 
city  of  the  dead  during  the  day,  are  still 
soundly  sleeping  in  their  beds,  all  worn  out 
with  the  exertions  of  their  excursions,  and  as 
the  sun  rises  over  the  gigantic  tomb  it  does 
not  light  up  a  single  human  entrance.  The 
lizards,  alone,  wriggle  their  tails  as  they  glide 
along  the  walls  or  over  disjointed  mosaics, 
without  stopping  to  read  the  cave  canem  in- 
scribed on  the  doors  of  the  deserted  houses. 
These  are  the  inhabitants  who  have  suc- 
ceeded the  ancient  citizens,  and  it  seems  as 
if  Pompeii  had  been  exhumed  solely  for  their 
benefit. 

It  is  a  strange  sight  to  behold  in  the  dim 
light  of  morning — the  skeleton  of  this  city, 
which  was  destroyed  in  the  midst  of  its  plea- 
sures, its  work,  and  its  civilization.  One 
momentarily  expects  to  see  the  proprietors  of 


122  ROMANTIC  LIBRA R  Y. 

these  deserted  houses  appear  in  the  doorway 
attired  in  Greek  or  Roman  costume,  and  the 
chariots,  of  which  the  tracks  are  plainly  dis- 
cernible on  the  flag-stones,  to  move  ;  the  tip- 
plers enter  the  thermopoles,  where  the  marks 
of  the  cups  are  still  imprinted  on  the  marble 
counter.  One  walks  as  in  a  dream  through 
the  past ;  the  bill  of  the  spectacle  in  red  let- 
ters is  posted  on  the  walls — only  the  spectacle 
has  taken  place  more  than  seventeen  centuries 
ago  !  In  the  uncertain  light  of  the  morning, 
the  figures  of  the  dancing  girls,  painted  on 
the  walls,  seem  to  wave  their  crotalums  as 
they  raise  the  thin  drapery  with  the  tips  of 
their  toes,  believing,  no  doubt,  that  the  torch 
bearers  would  light  up  the  triclinium  for  an 
orgie  ;  the  Venuses,  the  Satyrs,  and  the 
heroic  or  grotesque  figures,  animated  by  a 
ray  of  light,  apparently  replaced  the  dispersed 
inhabitants,  as  they  gave  an  almost  realistic 
appearance  to  the  deserted  city.  The  colored 
shadows  flicker  on  the  walls,  and  for  sev- 
eral minutes  the  mind  willingly  lends  itself  to 
this  ancient  phantasmagoria.  But  that  morn- 
ing, to  the  great  surprise  of  the  lizards,  the 
usual  matinal  serenity  of  Pompeii  was  dis- 
turbed by  a  strange  visitor  :  a  carriage  drove 
up  to  the  former  main  entrance  of  the  city, 
and  Paul,  alighting,  directed  his  steps  towards 
the  rendezvous  on  foot. 


JETTATURA.  123 

He  was  so  deeply  absorbed,  however,  that 
he  did  not  heed  this  city  of  fallen  grandeur. 
Was  it  the  thought  of  the  impending  combat 
which  preoccupied  him  thus  ?  Not  at  all. 
He  was  not  even  thinking  of  that ;  his 
thoughts  were  far  away,  In  his  mind  he  re- 
called his  first  meeting  with  Miss  Ward  in 
Richmond  ;  she  was  dressed  in  white,  and 
had  a  bunch  of  jasmine  blossoms  in  her  hair. 
How  young,  how  beautiful  and  sprightly  she 
had  seemed  to  him  then  ! 

The  ancient  baths  are  at  the  end  of  the 
Consular  quarter,  near  the  residence  of 
Diomedes  and  Mammia's  sepulchre ;  M. 
d'Aspremont  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  them. 
It  was  here  that  the  women  of  Pompeii  used 
to  come  after  the  bath  to  dry  their  beautiful 
bodies,  readjust  their  head-dresses,  and  re- 
sume their  tunics  and  their  stereotyped  smiles 
in  the  polished  brass  mirrors  of  the  period. 
Quite  another  scene  was  to  be  enacted  in  the 
thermae,  and  blood  would  stain  the  marble 
mosaics  where  perfumed  waters  once  were 
wont  to  flow. 

A  few  moments  later  Comte  d'Altavilla  ap- 
peared. He  carried  a  pistol  case  in  his  hand, 
and  two  swords  under  his  arm.  He  did  not 
believe  the  conditions  proposed  by  M.  d'As- 
premont to  be  serious  ;  he  looked  upon  them 
purely  as  a  bit  of  mephistophelean  sarcasm. 


124  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

"What  do  you  intend  doing  with  these 
pistols  and  swords,  Comte  ?  "  questioned  Paul. 
"J  thought  we  had  fully  agreed  on  the  wea- 
pons we  are  to  use  ? " 

"  Undoubtedly  ;  but  I  thought  it  quite  pos- 
sible that  you  would  change  your  mind.  No 
one  has  ever  fought  such  a  duel  as  you  pro- 
propose." 

"  Even  were  we  fully  equal  in  skill,  I 
would  have  an  advantage  over  you,"  replied 
Paul  with  a  bitter  smile  ;  "  and  I  do  not 
wish  to  abuse  this  advantage.  Here  are  a 
couple  of  Corsican  stilettos  ;  pray  examine 
them — they  are  of  equal  weight  and  length — 
and  here  a  couple  of  silk  scarfs  with  which  to 
blindfold  ourselves.  See,  they  are  very  thick, 
and  my  glance  will  hardly  pierce  the  material." 

The  Comte  d'Altavilla  nodded  his  head 
approvingly. 

"  We  have  no  witnesses,"  continued  Paul, 
"  and  one  of  us  must  never  leave  this  vault 
alive.  Let  us  each  write  a  note,  attesting  the 
loyalty  of  the  duel  ;  the  victor  will  pin  it  on 
the  dead  man's  breast." 

"  A  wise  precaution, "answered  the  Neapoli- 
tan with  a  smile,  as  he  traced  a  few  lines  on 
a  page  of  Paul's  memorandum  book,  after 
which  the  latter  went  through  the  same  for- 
mality. 

This    accomplished,  the  two  adversaries, 


JETTATURA.  125 

flinging  aside  their  coats,  proceeded  to  blind- 
fold themselves,  and,  arming  themselves  with 
their  stilettos,  they  each  took  a  firm  hold  on 
the  silk  scarf. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?  "  asked  M.  d'Aspremont 
of  the  Comte  d'Altavilla. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Neapolitan,  who  was  per- 
fectly composed. 

Don  Felipe  d'Altavilla's  bravery  was  not  to 
be  questioned;  all  he  feared  was  the  jettatura, 
and  this  blind  combat,  from  which  other  men 
would  have  recoiled  in  horror,  did  not  give 
him  the  slightest  fear.  He  simply  staked  his 
life  at  head  or  tails,  without  being  compelled 
to  undergo  the  torture  of  having  his  foe's 
fatal  glance  directed  upon  him. 

The  duellists  nourished  their  stilettos,  and 
the  scarf  which  linked  them  together  was 
strained  to  its  utmost  tension.  By  an  instinct- 
ive movement,  both  Paul  and  the  Comte  had 
thrown  their  bodies  backward,  the  only  atti- 
tude possible  in  such  a  duel  ;  their  arms 
circled  through  the  empty  air,  and  that 
was  all. 

This  blind  struggle,  where  each  had  a  pre- 
sentiment of  death  without  seeing  it  coming, 
was  indeed  terrible.  Silently  and  furiously 
the  two  foes  retreated,  sprang  forward  and 
retreated  again,  at  times  almost  upsetting  one 
another  in  the  darkness,  as  they  struck  out 


126  ROMA  NT  1C  LIBRAR  Y, 

again  and  again  with  their  stilettos  without 
injuring  each  other. 

•At  one  moment,  d'Altavilla  felt  the  point  of 
his  stiletto  striking  against  something  ;  he 
halted,  supposing  that  he  killed  his  rival,  and 
waited  for  the  sound  of  his  falling  body ; — 
but  he  had  only  struck  the  wall ! 

"  By  Heaven  !  I  thought  I  had  run  you 
through,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  recovered  his 
guard. 

"  Do  not  speak,"  said  Paul,  "  your  voice 
guides  me." 

And  the  combat  recommenced. 

Suddenly  the  rivals  felt  themselves  detached 
from  one  another.  A  blow  of  Paul's  stiletto 
had  severed  the  scarf. 

"  A  truce  !  "  exclaimed  the  Neapolitan  ; 
"  the  scarf  has  parted  !  " 

"  What  matters  that  ?  Let  us  continue," 
replied  Paul. 

A  painful  silence  followed.  Like  honor- 
able men  that  they  were,  neither  M.  d'Aspre- 
mont  nor  the  Comte  wished  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  sound  of  the  voice  caused  by  this 
brief  exchange  of  words,  to  precipitate  the 
attack.  They  took  a  few  paces  to  one  side 
in  order  to  throw  each  other  off  the  track, 
then  they  retraced  their  steps  and  began 
hunting  for  each  other  in  the  darkness. 

Paul  displaced  a  little  stone  with  his  foot ; 


JETTATURA.  1*7 

this  slight  noise  revealed  to  the  Neapolitan 
the  direction  his  foe  was  taking.  Raising 
himself  on  his  tiptoes  in  order  to  obtain  more 
momentum,  Altavilla  bounded  forward  with 
the  fury  of  a  tiger,  and  brought  up  against 
M.  d'Aspremont's  stiletto. 

Paul  touched  the  point  of  his  weapon — it 
was  wet — unsteady  steps  resounded  on  the 
flag-stones  ;  a  heavy  sigh  was  heard,  followed 
by  the  noise  of  a  falling  body. 

Terrified  beyond  measure,  Paul  tore  the 
handkerchief  from  his  eyes,  and  beheld  the 
Comte  d'Altavilla,  pale  and  motionless, 
stretched  out  on  his  back,  his  shirt  stained 
with  his  life-blood. 

The  handsome  Neapolitan  was  dead  ! 

M.  d'Aspremont  placed  the  note  d'Altavilla 
had  written,  attesting  the  loyalty  of  the  com- 
bat, on  his  breast,  and  left  the  thermae  with  a 
heavy  heart,  while  his  face  was  even  whiter 
than  that  of  the  dead  nobleman  who  was  lying 
there  on  the  cold  marble  slabs. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TOWARDS  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
a  number  of  English  tourists  visited  the 
ruins  of  Pompeii ;  the  party,  which  was 
composed  of  the  father,  mother,  three  daugh- 


128  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

ters,  two  little  boys  and  a  cousin,  had  al- 
ready cast  a  careless  look  about  the  ruins, 
characteristic  of  the  British  ennui,  almost 
without  halting  to  admire  the  grandeur  of 
the  amphitheatre,  and  of  the  theatres,  so  curi- 
ously juxtaposed  ;  of  the  military  quarters, 
chalked  with  caricatures  by  the  guards  during 
their  leisure  moments  ;  the  forum,  the  temples 
of  Venus  and  Jupiter,  the  basilica  and  the 
Pantheon.  They  silently  studied  their  Mur- 
rays,  while  the  cicerone  eloquently  described 
the  ruins,  and  they  scarcely  condescended  to 
notice  the  broken  columns,  the  fragments  of 
statues,  the  mosaics,  the  frescoes,  and  the 
inscriptions. 

They  finally  reached  the  ancient  baths, 
discovered  in  1824,  as  the  guide  saw  fit  to 
remark.  "  Here  were  the  vapor  baths,  there 
the  boiler  in  which  the  water  was  heated,  and, 
further  on,  the  drying  room";  these  details 
given  in  the  Neapolitan  patois,  mixed  with  a 
few  sentences  in  broken  English,  evidently 
did  not  interest  the  visitors,  for  they  were 
going  to  take  their  departure,  when  suddenly 
Miss  Ethelwina,  the  eldest  of  the  daughters, 
a  charming  blonde  with  freckled  face,  started 
back,  partly  through  fear  and  partly  through 
modesty,  as  she  cried  out :  "  A  man  !  " 

"  It  is  no  doubt  some  workman  employed  by 
the  government  to  unearth  the  ruins,  who  is 


JETTATURA.  129 

taking  his  afternoon  siesta,  so  don't  be  alarmed, 
my  lady,"  said  the  guide,  as  he  applied  the 
tip  of  his  boot  to  the  inanimate  body  stretched 
out  at  full  length  on  the  ground.  "  Hola  !  I 
say  there,  wake  up,  you  lazy  clown,  and  permit 
their  graces  to  pass." 

But  the  sleeper  did  not  stir. 

"  The  man  is  not  asleep — he  is  dead,"  said 
one  of  the  sons  who  was  in  advance  of  the 
party. 

The  cicerone  stooped  down,  but  he  started 
back  in  horror  as  he  exclaimed  : 

"  The  man  has  been  murdered  !  " 

"  It  is  positively  shocking  that  one  is  com- 
pelled to  look  upon  such  ghastly  objects  ; 
Ethelwina,  Kitty,  Bessie,  stand  aside,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Bracebridge  ;  "  it  is  not  proper 
for  young  ladies  to  look  at  such  a  disgust- 
ing sight.  Haven't  they  any  police  in  this 
country  ?  The  coroner  should  have  removed 
the  body  long  ago." 

"  Ah  !  a  paper  !  "  laconically  remarked  the 
cousin,  a  long-legged,  awkward  fellow  after 
the  style  of  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedike  in  "  The 
Edinburgh  Jail." 

"  So  it  is,"  added  the  guide,  as  he  picked 
up  the  paper  on  d'Altavilla's  breast  ;  "  and 
there  is  writing  on  it,  too." 

"Then  read  it,"  exclaimed  the  tourists  as 
with  one  voice,  their  curiosity  being  aroused. 


1 30  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

"  It  is  useless  to  seek  or  annoy  any  one  on 
account  of  my  death.  If  this  note  is  found 
on.  my  wound  I  shall  have  fallen  in  a  fair 
duel. 

(Signed)  FELIPE,  Comte  d'Altavilla. 

"  He  was  a  gentleman  after  all ;  what  a 
pity  !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Bracebridge,  impressed 
by  the  title. 

"  And  such  a  handsome  man,"  murmured 
Miss  Ethelwina,  the  young  lady  with  the 
freckles. 

"  Surely,  you  can't  complain  now,"  whis- 
pered Bessie  to  Kitty ;  "  you  are  always 
grumbling  because  we  have  had  such  an  un- 
interesting voyage  ;  we  have  not,  it  is  true, 
been  stopped  by  brigands  on  the  road  from 
Terracine  to  Fondi,  but  we  have  found  a 
young  nobleman,  pierced  through  the  heart 
by  a  blow  from  a  stiletto  in  the  ruins  of 
Pompeii — and  that  ought  to  be  romantic 
enough,  I'm  sure.  Some  love  affair  is  back 
of  this,  no  doubt,  and  we  will  have  some- 
thing startling  to  tell  our  friends  on  our  return. 
I  will  sketch  the  scene  in  my  album,  and  you 
will  add  a  few  mournful  verses,  a  la  Byron." 

"  I  don't  care,"  interrupted  the  guide,  "it 
was  a  fair  blow — he  was  struck  square  in  the 
heart  ;  there  is  no  fault  to  be  found." 

Such  was  the  funeral  oration  of  the  Comte 
d'Altavilla. 


JETTATURA.  131 

Some  workmen,  notified  by  the  cicerone, 
hurried  off  to  warn  the  authorities,  and  the 
body  of  the  unfortunate  Comte  was  carried 
to  his  chateau  near  Salerno. 

As  to  M.  d'Aspremont,  he  had  regained  his 
carriage,  and,  although  his  eyes  were  wide 
open,  he  could  not  see — he  walked  like  a 
somnambulist  in  his  sleep.  He  was  like  an 
animated  statue.  Although  he  was  inspired 
with  religious  horror  at  the  sight  of  the  dead 
man,  still  he  did  not  consider  himself  guilty. 
Provoked  by  the  Comte  to  fight,  he  had  no 
other  course  to  pursue  than  to  accept,  and 
yet  he  had  only  decided  to  fight  in  the  hope 
that  he  would  be  the  victim.  Gifted  with  a 
fatal  glance,  he  had  insisted  that  both  com- 
batants should  be  blindfolded  so  that  fate 
alone  should  be  responsible  for  the  result. 
He  had  not  even  struck  the  blow  ;  his  enemy 
had  impaled  himself  upon  his  weapon  !  He 
bemoaned  the  death  of  the  Comte  d'Altavilla 
precisely  as  he  would  have  done  had  he  not 
been  accountable  for  his  death.  "  It  is  my 
stiletto  that  killed  him,"  he  reasoned,  "  but  if 
I  had  looked  at  him  in  a  ball-room  one  of 
the  chandeliers  would  have  fallen  on  him 
from  the  ceiling  and  would  have  crushed  him 
beneath  its  weight.  I  am  as  innocent  as  the 
lightning,  the  avalanche,  or  the  machineel 
tree — as  unconscious,  in  fact,  of  the  harm  I 


1 3 2  ROMA NTIC  LIBRAE  Y. 

occasion  as  any  of  these  destructive  powers 
The  lightning,  however,  is  not  aware  that  it 
kills,  while  I,  an  intelligent  creature,  know 
the  fatal  power  I  possess.  It  seems  as  if  I 
had  no  right  to  linger  on  this  earth  where  I 
cause  so  many  misfortunes  !  Would  God 
damn  me  forever  if  I  committed  suicide  in 
order  to  save  my  fellow-beings  from  destruc- 
tion ?  It  seems  as  if  this  would  be  pardon- 
able in  the  present  case.  But  what  if  I 
should  be  mistaken  ?  Then  I  could  not  even 
look  upon  Alicia  in  the  next  world,  where  the 
eyes  of  the  souls  are  not  accursed  with  the 
fatal  f ascino.  This  is  a  chance  I  don't  propose 
to  run." 

A  sudden  thought  flashed  through  the  mind 
of  the  unfortunate  jettatore  and  interrupted 
his  revery.  His  features  seemed  to  grow 
softer,  and  they  relaxed  their  severity  as  they 
assumed  an  expression  of  determination.  He 
had  taken  a  final  resolution. 

"  A  curse  be  on  my  eyes,  since  they  are 
murderous  !  but,  before  closing  forever,  sat- 
urate yourselves  with  light,  gaze  on  the  sun,  on 
the  blue  sky,  the  immense  sea,  and  the  chains 
of  mountains :  contemplate  the  green  trees, 
the  infinite  horizon,  the  columns  of  the  palace, 
the  fisherman's  hut  ;  the  far-off  islands  of 
the  gulf,  the  white  sails  which  brighten  the 
horizon,  and  Vesuvius  with  her  smoking 


JETTATURA.  133 

crater  ;  gaze  upon  all  these  sights,  and 
remember  them  well,  for  you  will  never 
feast  upon  this  beautiful  vision  again  ;  study 
every  form,  and  every  color — treat  yourselves 
to  this  gorgeous  spectacle,  intoxicate  your- 
selves with  the  beauties  of  the  earth — for  it  is 
for  the  last  time  !  Go  on  !  enjoy  yourselves  ! 
The  curtain  will  soon  fall  between  you  and 
the  picturesque  scenery  and  the  beauties  of 
the  universe  ! " 

At  this  moment  the  carriage  was  following 
the  beach  ;  the  beautiful  bay  was  looking  at 
its  best,  and  the  sky  seemed  to  have  been 
sculptured  out  of  a  single  block  of  sapphire. 

Paul  asked  the  driver  to  stop,  and,  getting 
out  of  the  carriage,  he  seated  himself  on  a 
rock,  from  whence  he  gazed  long  and  earnestly 
at  the  surroundings  as  if  he  wished  to  im- 
press them  upon  his  memory.  His  eyes 
bathed  themselves  in  the  light,  and  the  sun, 
shining  brighter  than  ever,  seemed  to  impart 
some  of  its  brilliancy  to  them  !  There  would 
be  no  dawn  to  the  night  which  was  to  follow  ! 

Tearing  himself  away  from  this  silent  con- 
templation, M.  d'Aspremont  entered  the  car- 
riage and  directed  Scazziga  to  drive  to  the 
white  villa  near  Sorrento. 

He  found  Alicia  reclining  on  the  lounge, 
exactly  as  he  had  left  her  the  day  before. 
Paul  seated  himself  opposite  to  her,  but  this 


134  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

time  he  did  not  lower  his  eyes  as  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  do  since  he  first  acquired  the 
knowledge  of  his  fatal  power. 

Alicia's  beauty  was  perfect  even  in  her 
agony  ;  the  woman  had  almost  disappeared, 
making  way  for  the  angelic  being.  Her  skin 
was  transparent,  ethereal,  and  luminous  ;  one 
could  see  her  soul  shining  through  the  frail 
form  like  the  light  of  an  alabaster  lamp. 
Her  eyes  had  the  tender  blue  of  the  sky  in 
them,  and  scintillated  like  two  bright  stars  ; 
life  scarcely  placed  its  red  signature  upon  the 
carnation  of  her  lips. 

A  divine  smile  illumininated  her  mouth, 
like  a  ray  of  the  sun  about  a  rose,  as  her 
affianced  husband  turned  his  eyes  lovingly 
upon  her.  She  imagined  that  Paul  had  at 
last  dismissed  the  thought  that  he  was  ac- 
cursed from  his  mind,  and  she  once  more 
beheld  the  Paul  of  former  days.  She  held 
out  her  pale,  wan  hand,  which  he  eagerly 
clasped  in  his  own. 

"  So  you  are  no  longer  afraid  of  me  ?  "  she 
said  with  a  sweet  smile,  as  Paul  continued  to 
gaze  upon  her. 

"  Oh  !  let  me  look  at  you,"  answered  M. 
d'Aspremont  in  a  strange  tone,  kneeling  be- 
side the  sofa  ;  "  let  my  eyes  feast  themselves 
upon  your  intoxicating  beauty  !  "  and  he  con- 
templated Alicia's  raven-black  hair,  her  white 


JETTATURA.  135 

brow,  which  was  as  pure  as  Grecian  marble, 
her  dark  blue  eyes,  her  finely  shaped  nose, 
her  mouth  with  its  two  rows  of  pearls,  and 
her  swan-like  neck  ;  he  seemed  to  make  a 
note  of  every  feature  and  every  detail,  like  a 
painter  who  desires  to  retain  a  picture  in  his 
mind. 

Alicia  was  fascinated  by  his  burning  glance, 
and  experienced  a  painful,  almost  fatal  sen- 
sation— the  dying  embers  of  her  life  were 
fanned  into  a  momentary  flame  ;  she  turned 
red  and  white  by  turns,  and  from  ice  she  sud- 
denly turned  to  fire.  Another  moment,  and 
her  soul  would  have  left  her  forever. 

She  placed  her  hands  over  Paul's  eyes,  but 
the  young  man's  glance  darted  through  her 
transparent  fingers  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 

"  Now  that  I  have  seen  her  again,  what 
care  I  for  my  eyesight  ?  Her  portrait  is  im- 
printed upon  my  heart,"  Paul  muttered  as  he 
took  his  departure. 

That  night,  after  having  gazed  at  the  set- 
ting sun — the  last  sunset  he  would  ever  be- 
hold— M.  d'Aspremont  rang  for  a  chafing- 
dish  and  some  charcoal. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  is  going  to  asphyxiate  him- 
self?" grumbled  Virgilio  Falsacappa  as  he 
handed  Paddy  the  coal  and  the  chafing-dish 
his  master  had  sent  for.  "  It's  about  the  best 
thing  the  cursed  jettatore  could  do  !  " 


I36  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

But  such  was  not  d'Aspremont's  intention, 
for  he  opened  the  window  and,  lighting  the 
coals,  plunged  the  blade  of  a  stiletto  into  the 
flame. 

The  fine  blade,  embedded  as  it  was  in  this 
incandescent  heat,  was  soon  red-hot.  Paul 
leaned  on  the  mantelpiece  and  gazed  at  him- 
self in  the  mirror. 

"  Farewell,  accursed  features  !  this  horrible 
mask  will  soon  disappear  forever !  I  am 
going  to  plunge  you  into  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  and  before  long  I  shall  have  forgotten 
your  fatal  charm  as  completely  as  though  it 
had  never  existed.  It  will  be  useless  to  cry 
out,  '  Hubert,  Hubert,  my  poor  eyes  ! '  for 
that  will  not  alter  my  determination.  Now 
then,  to  work  !  "  and  casting  one  last,  sweep- 
ing glance  in  the  mirror  he  approached  the 
lighted  fire. 

He  blew  his  breath  upon  the  embers,  and 
took  the  dagger  by  the  handle,  the  blade  of 
which  emitted  little  white  sparks. 

At  this  decisive  moment,  although  fully 
determined  to  carry  his  plan  into  execution, 
M.  d'Aspremont  felt  his  heart  sinking  within 
him,  while  a  cold  sweat  bathed  his  temples  ; 
but  with  a  superhuman  effort  he  recovered 
his  self-possession,  and  passed  the  hot  blade 
before  his  eyes. 

A  sharp,  tearing,   lacerating    pain  almost 


JETTATURA.  137 

caused  him  to  cry  out ;  it  seemed  as  if  two 
drops  of  molten  lead  had  been  dropped  in  his 
eyes  and,  burning  through  his  eyeballs,  had 
forced  their  way  to  the  back  of  his  head  ;  the 
dagger  fell  from  his  open  hand  and  made  a 
deep  burn  in  the  carpet. 

A  thick,  compact  darkness,  compared  with 
which  the  darkest  night  was  as  daylight,  en- 
veloped him  in  its  black  mantle  ;  he  turned 
his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  mantelpiece, 
where  the  candles  were  still  burning  brightly, 
but  an  impenetrable,  dense  obscurity  sur- 
rounded him  on  every  side.  The  sacrifice 
was  consummated  ! 

"  And  now,  sweet  and  noble  creature," 
murmured  Paul,  "  I  can  become  your  hus- 
band without  the  fear  of  becoming  your 
assassin  as  well.  You  will  no  longer  wilt 
away  under  the  magic  fascino  of  my  fatal 
glance — you  will  regain  your  health  and 
former  beauty.  Alas  !  I  can  no  longer  see 
you,  it  is  true,  but  your  sainted  image  is  for- 
ever imprinted  on  my  heart ;  and  although  I 
will  see  you  only  in  my  fancy,  still  your  sweet 
voice  will  reach  my  ear.  Sometimes,  too,  you 
will  let  your  hand  linger  in  mine  to  assure 
me  of  your  presence,  you  will  condescend  to 
lead  your  poor,  blind  husband  when  he  falters 
in  the  darkness  of  an  eternal  night  ;  you  will 
read  poetry  and  you  will  describe  all  the  cele- 


138  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

brated  paintings  and  statues  to  him.  Through 
the  sound  of  your  loving  voice,  you  will  re- 
store to  him  the  lost  treasures  of  the  world  ; 
you  will  be  his  one  thought,  his  only  dream  ; 
deprived  of  the  sunlight  and  the  enjoyment 
of  the  beauties  of  this  earth,  his  soul  will  fly 
towards  you  for  consolation  ! 

"  I  do  not  regret  my  sacrifice,  since  you  are 
saved — and,  after  all,  what  have  I  lost  ?  The 
monotonous  spectacle  of  the  different  seasons, 
the  sight  of  more  or  less  picturesque  places 
where  the  hundred  different  acts  of  the  com- 
edy of  life  are  daily  enacted  for  the  edifi- 
cation of  millions  of  souls.  The  earth,  the 
sky,  the  sea,  the  mountains,  the  trees,  the 
flowers — a  vulgar  show,  a  repetition  of  the 
same  old  things  day  after  day  !  When  one 
is  beloved,  one  possesses  the  real  sun,  the 
brightness  of  which  is  never  dimmed  by  pass- 
ing clouds  !  " 

So  spoke  the  unfortunate  Paul  d'Aspremont, 
feverish  and  delirious  with  pain  and  exalta- 
tion. 

His  suffering  gradually  diminished  ;  then 
he  dropped  off  into  that  heavy  sleep  which  is 
the  brother  of  death,  and  which,  like  death, 
brings  consolation. 

He  was  not  aroused  by  the  light  of  day 
which  streamed  through  the  open  curtains  of 
his  room.  Henceforth,  midnight  and  noon 


JETTATURA.  139 

would  be  alike  to  him  ;  but  the  clocks  chiming 
the  Angelus  rumbled  in  his  ears,  until,  becom- 
ing gradually  more  distinct,  they  awoke  him 
from  his  drowsiness. 

He  attempted  to  move  his  eyelids,  and 
before  he  knew  it  the  pain  suddenly  reminded 
him  of  his  sacrifice.  His  eyes  encountered 
nothing  but  darkness,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he 
had  been  buried  alive  ;  but  he  soon  recovered 
his  composure.  For  was  it  not  destined  that 
his  life  should  be  ever  thus  ?  Henceforth, 
the  light  of  the  morning  and  the  darkness  of 
the  night  would  be  alike  to  him. 

He  groped  around  in  the  darkness  for  the 
bell-rope,  and  Paddy  made  his  appearance 
in  answer  to  this  summons. 

"  I  foolishly  slept  with  the  window  open," 
said  Paul,  in  order  to  avoid  an  explanation, 
"  and  I  believe  I  have  caught  the  gutta  ser- 
ena,  but  it  will  soon  pass  away,  I  suppose. 
Kindly  lead  me  to  the  basin  and  fill  a  tumbler 
with  fresh  water  forthwith." 

Paddy,  with  the  discretion  so  becoming  in 
an  English  valet,  made  no  comment,  and, 
after  executing  his  master's  commands,  re- 
tired. 

Left  to  himself,  Paul  dipped  his  handker- 
chief in  the  cold  water  and  applied  it  to  his 
eyes  in  order  to  cool  the  burn. 

We  will  leave  M.  d'Aspremont,  thus  pain- 


14°  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

fully  occupied,  while  we  will  rejoin  some  of 
the  other  personages  who  have  figured  in  this 
story. 

The  news  of  Comte  d'Altavilla's  strange 
death  spread  like  wildfire  through  the  city  and 
was  the  subject  of  a  thousand  different  conjec- 
tures. The  Comte's  ability  as  a  swordsman 
was  well  known.  D'Altaville  had  the  repu- 
tation of  being  one  of  the  best  fencers  of  the 
Neapolitan  school ;  he  had  killed  three  men, 
and  he  had  seriously  wounded  five  or  six 
more.  The  most  celebrated  duellists,  there- 
fore, took  particular  pains  not  to  offend  him. 
Now,  if  one  of  these  swaggerers  had  killed 
d'Altavilla,  he  certainly  would  not  have  hesi- 
tated to  proclaim  his  prowess.  And  yet  the 
note  found  on  his  body  diverted  all  thoughts 
of  murder.  At  first  the  handwriting  was 
questioned,  but  it  was  compared  to  some  of 
his  letters  by  experts,  who  pronounced  the 
writing  to  be  the  same.  Again,  the  handker- 
chief tied  about  his  head  could  in  no  way 
be  accounted  for.  Then,  two  stilettos  were 
found  in  the  ruins  near  the  body,  while  a 
couple  of  swords  and  pistols  were  discovered 
a  little  further  off. 

The  news  of  his  death  finally  reached 
Vice's  ears,  and  she  lost  no  time  in  informing 
Sir  Joshua  Ward.  The  Commodore  suddenly 
remembered  his  conversation  with  d'Altavilla, 


JETTATURA.  141 

when  the  latter  mysteriously  hinted  that  he 
had  a  plan  by  which  Alicia  could  be  saved. 
In  his  imagination,  he  beheld  the  Comte  and 
M.  d'Aspremont  engaged  in  the  deadly  strug- 
gle. As  to  Vice,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  at- 
tribute the  death  of  the  handsome  Neapolitan 
to  the  fatal  influence  of  the  fascino.  And  yet, 
Paul  had  paid  his  respects  to  Miss  Ward  at 
the  usual  hour,  and  there  was  nothing  in  his 
appearance  to  betray  the  part  he  had  acted 
in  the  terrible  drama  ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
appeared  even  more  gay  than  usual. 

M.  d'Aspremont  did  not  call  that  day,  and 
the  news  of  the  Comte's  death  was  carefully 
withheld  from  Alicia. 

Paul  did  not  wish  to  present  himself  with 
his  red  eyes,  as  he  proposed  to  attribute  his 
sudden  blindness  to  another  cause.  The 
following  day,  however,  his  eyes  having 
ceased  to  pain  him,  he  asked  Paddy  to  ac- 
company him  for  a  drive. 

The  carriage  stopped,  as  usual,  before  the 
terrace.  The  blind  man  kicked  open  the 
door  with  his  foot,  and  was  soon  treading  the 
•well-known  path.  Vice  had  not  hastened  to 
meet  him  as  was  her  wont  when  the  bell,  set 
in  motion  by  the  opening  and  closing  of  the 
door,  notified  her  of  the  approach  of  a  visitor  ; 
none  of  the  joyful  sounds  which  formerly 
burst  upon  his  ear  reached  him  now,  but 


142  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

instead  a  frightful,  death-like  silence  reigned 
supreme.  This  silence,  which  would  have 
oppressed  even  a  man  who  could  see,  struck 
apprehension  and  nameless  fear  to  the  heart 
of  the  poor,  groping  Paul. 

The  branches  which  he  could  no  longer 
see  appeared  anxious  to  retain  him  ;  they 
stretched  forth,  like  so  many  arms,  attempt- 
ing to  bar  his  passage.  The  laurel-bushes 
got  in  his  way,  the  rose-bushes  fastened  them- 
selves on  his  clothes,  the  vines  seized  him 
about  the  legs,  while  the  birds  seemed  to 
twitter,  "  Why  do  you  come  here,  poor  un- 
fortunate ?  Do  not  attempt  to  force  your  way 
through  the  obstructions  nature  has  placed 
in  your  path — go  away  !  "  But  Paul  did  not 
heed  the  warning,  and,  tormented  by  a  terri- 
ble presentiment,  he  hurled  himself  against  the 
opposing  shrubbery — heedless  of  the  laurel 
and  the  rose  bushes  he  destroyed  in  his  mad 
onslaught — while  he  continued  to  force  his 
way  toward  the  villa. 

Torn  and  scratched  by  the  overhanging 
branches,  he  finally  reached  the  end  of  the 
arbor.  A  gust  of  fresh  air  struck  him  in  the 
face,  and  he  continued  his  way  with  his 
hands  stretched  out  before  him. 

He  found  the  wall,  and  finally  the  door, 
after  a  difficult  search. 

He  entered  ;    no  kindly  voice  gave  him  a 


JETTATURA.  143 

welcome.  There  was  no  sound  to  guide  him. 
For  a  moment  he  stood,  hesitating,  in  the 
doorway.  An  odor  of  ether,  of  wax  in  com- 
bustion, and  the  aromatic  perfumes  of  a  death- 
chamber  reached  the  intruder's  nostrils  as 
he  stood  there,  hesitating  and  trembling  on 
the  threshold  ;  a  frightful  thought  suddenly 
crossed  his  mind,  and  he  entered  the  room. 

He  advanced  a  few  steps — then  he  struck 
against  something  which  fell  on  the  floor  with 
a  loud  noise.  Stooping  down,  he  took  it 
up  :  by  its  touch  he  recognized  it  to  be  a 
long  metallic  candlestick,  similar  to  the  ones 
used  in  churches. 

With  throbbing  heart,  he  continued  his  way 
through  the  darkness.  He  seemed  to  hear  a 
voice  offering  up  a  prayer  to  Heaven  ;  he 
took  another  step  forward,  and  his  hands 
encountered  the  foot-board  of  a  bed  ;  he 
leaned  over,  and  his  fingers  touched  a  motion- 
less body  at  first  ;  then  a  wreath  of  roses  and 
a  face  as  pure  and  cold  as  marble. 

It  was  Alicia  laid  out  in  her  funeral 
robes. 

"  Dead  !  "  shrieked  Paul,  as  he  realized 
the  truth  at  last  ;  "  dead  !  and  it  is  I  who 
have  killed  her  !  " 

The  Commodore,  frozen  with  horror,  had 
seen  this  spectre,  with  its  sightless  eyes,  as  it 
staggered  across  the  room,  and  finally  came 


1 44  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

to  a  standstill  before  the  bed  in  which  his 

niece  was  lying  :  he  had  understood. 

•    The    grandeur   of    this    useless    sacrifice 

caused  the  tears  to  rush  to  the  old  man's 

eyes. 

Paul  fell  on  his  knees  beside  the  bed, 
while  he  covered  Alicia's  cold  hand  with 
burning,  passionate  kisses  ;  his  body  shook 
with  emotion.  His  sorrow  even  moved  the 
ferocious  Vice,  who  stood  respectfully  by  the 
side  of  the  bed,  watching  her  mistress's  last 
sleep. 

After  he  had  bid  his  love  farewell,  M. 
d'Aspremont  rose  and,  advancing  towards  the 
door,  went  out.  His  eyes,  which  were  wide 
open,  exposing  the  red  scar  caused  by  the 
burns,  presented  an  unnatural  expression  ; 
although  he  was  blind,  one  would  have  believed 
he  had  the  gift  of  sight.  He  crossed  the  ter- 
race, without  halting  once,  and  walked  out 
into  the  country,  sometimes  disturbing  a  stone 
with  his  foot,  and  sometimes  stopping  as  if 
to  catch  a  distant  sound — but  he  continued 
on  his  way. 

The  noise  made  by  the  waves  as  they  washed 
ashore  grew  more  distinct,  while  the  sea-gulls 
uttered  plaintive  cries  which  sounded  mourn- 
fully indeed  as  the  sighing  of  the  wind  and 
the  rush  of  the  waters  burst  upon  his  ear. 

Paul  was  soon  standing  on  an  overhanging 


JETTATURA.  MS 

rock.  The  rolling  of  the  waves,  and  the 
salted  rain  which  beat  upon  his  face  should 
have  warned  him  of  the  danger  he  was  run- 
ning ;  but  he  heeded  not  the  warning  ;  a 
strange  smile  flitted  across  his  pale  lips,  and 
he  continued  on  his  way,  although  he  knew 
the  gulf  was  beneath  his  feet. 

Suddenly,  he  lost  his  balance  and  fell ;  a 
gigantic  wave  seized  him  in  its  embrace  and 
carried  him  backwards  in  its  mad  rush. 

Then  the  storm  burst  forth  in  all  its  fury  ; 
the  waves  beat  upon  the  beach  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, like  a  phalanx  of  cavalry  storming  a 
fortress,  while  they  cast  the  spray  high  into 
the  air  ;  the  black  clouds,  tinged  with  fire, 
emittted  sulphurous  vapors  ;  the  crater  of 
Vesuvius  grew  brighter,  and  a  variegated 
cloud  hovered  over  the  volcano.  The  barks 
anchored  off  the  shore  collided  together  with 
a  mournful  sound,  while  their  cables,  strained 
to  their  utmost  tension,  creaked  ominously. 
Then  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents,  cut- 
ting the  faces  of  the  people  like  so  much  fine 
glass — it  seemed  as  if  the  chaos  wished  to 
conquer  nature  and  once  more  confound  the 
elements. 

M.  Paul  d'Aspremont's  body  was  never 
found,  although  the  Commodore  offered  a 
large  reward  for  its  recovery. 

An  ebony  coffin,  with  silver  handles,  lined 


146  ROMANTTC  LIBRARY. 

with  quilted  satin — in  fact,  just  such  a  coffin 
as  Clarissa  Harlowe  recommended  to  the  care 
of  "  the  carpenter," — was  taken  on  board  a 
yacht  by  the  Commodore  and  carried  to 
England,  where  it  was  placed  in  the  family 
vault  in  Lincolnshire.  It  contained  all  that 
was  earthly  of  Miss  Alicia  Ward,  who  was 
beautiful  even  in  death. 

A  remarkable  change  has  taken  place  in 
the  Commodore.  His  superb  embonpoint  has 
completely  disappeared.  He  no  longer  takes 
Jamaica  rum  in  his  tea,  eats  but  little,  and  has 
very  little  to  say  ;  and  the  contrast  between 
his  white  whiskers  and  his  sunburnt  face  no 
longer  exists — the  Commodore  has  forever 
lost  his  ruddy  color. 


THE    BLACK    PEARL 


147 


THE  BLACK  PEARL. 

BY  VICTORIEN  SARDOU. 


CHAPTER   I. 

WHEN  it  rains  in  Amsterdam,  it  pours  ;  and 
when  the  thunder  takes  a  hand  in  the  perform- 
ance things  are  pretty  lively  ;  this  is  what  my 
friend  Balthazar  Van  der  Lys  was  saying  to 
himself  one  summer  night,  as  he  ran  along  the 
Amstel  on  his  way  home  to  escape  the  storm. 
Unfortunately,  the  wind  of  the  Zuiderzee  blew 
faster  than  he  could  run.  A  frightful  gust 
tore  along  the  quay,  unhinging  hundreds  of 
shutters  and  twisting  scores  of  signs  and  lamp 
posts.  At  the  same  moment,  a  number  of 
towels  and  handkerchiefs  which  had  been 
hung  out  to  dry  were  blown  pell-mell  into  the 
canal,  followed  by  Balthazar's  hat,  and  it  is 
the  greatest  wonder  in  the  world  that  he  was 
not  treated  to  a  bath  himself.  Then  there 
was  another  flash  of  lightning,  a  deafening 
roar  of  thunder,  and  the  rain  came  down  in 
149 


1 5  o  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

torrents  anew,  literally  wetting  our  poor  friend 
to  the  skin,  and  causing  him  to  redouble  his 
speed. 

On  reaching  the  Orphelinat  Straat  he  rushed 
under  the  awning  of  a  shop  to  seek  refuge  from 
the  rain  ;  in  his  hurry  he  did  not  take  time  look 
where  he  was  going,  and  the  next  moment  he 
found  himself  fairly  in  the  arms  of  another 
man,  and  the  two  went  rolling  over  and  over 
together.  The  person  thus  disturbed  was 
seated  at  the  time  in  an  arm-chair  ;  this  per- 
son was  no  other  than  our  mutual  friend, 
Cornelius  Pump,  who  was  undoubtedly  one  of 
the  most  noted  savants  of  the  age. 

"  Cornelius  !  what  the  mischief  were  you  do- 
ing in  that  chair  ?  "  asked  Balthazar,  picking 
himself  up. 

"  Look  out !  "  exclaimed  Cornelius,  "  or 
you  will  break  the  string  of  my  kite  !  " 

Balthazar  turned  around,  believing  that  his 
friend  was  joking  ;  but,  to  his  surprise,  he 
saw  Cornelius  busily  occupied  in  winding  up 
the  string  of  a  gigantic  kite,  which  was  float- 
ing above  the  canal  at  a  tremendous  height, 
and  which  apparently  was  struggling  fiercely 
against  all  effort  made  to  pull  it  in.  Corne- 
lius pulled  away  with  all  his  might  in  one 
direction,  while  the  kite  pulled  away  in  an- 
other. The  monstrous  combination  of  paper 
and  sticks  was  ornamented  with  a  tremen- 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  IS1 

dous  tail,  which  was  decorated  with  innumer- 
able pieces  of  paper. 

"  A  curious  idea  !  "  remarked  Balthazar, 
"  to  fly  a  kite  in  such  a  storm." 

"  I  am  not  doing  so  for  fun,  you  fool," 
answered  Cornelius  with  a  smile  ;  "  I  wish  to 
verify  the  presence  of  nitric  acid  in  yonder 
clouds,  which  are  charged  with  electricity. 
In  proof  of  which,  behold  !  "  and  with  a  des- 
perate effort  the  man  of  science  succeeded  in 
pulling  down  the  kite,  and  pointed  with  pride 
to  the  bits  of  paper  which  had  been  burned  a 
dark  red. 

"  Oh,  bah  !  "  replied  Balthazar  in  that  tone 
of  voice  so  common  to  those  who  do  not 
understand  anything  of  these  little  freaks 
of  science.  "  A  nice  time  to  experiment, 
upon  my  word  !  " 

"  The  best  time  in  the  world,  my  friend," 
simply  answered  Cornelius.  "  And  what  an 
observatory  !  you  can  see  for  yourself  !  there 
is  not  an  obstruction  in  the  way !  a  glorious 
horizon  !  ten  lightning-rods  in  sight  and  all 
on  fire  !  I  have  been  keeping  my  weather 
eye  open  for  this  storm  and  I  am  delighted 
that  it  has  put  in  an  appearance  at  last  !  " 

A  violent  thunder-clap  shook  the  ground 
like  an  earthquake. 

"  Go  on  !  grumble  away  as  much  as  you 
please,"  muttered  Cornelius.  "  I  have  dis- 


152  ROMANTIC  LIBRA R  Y. 

covered  your  secret  and  will  tell  to  it  the 
world." 

"  And  what  is  there  so  interesting  in  all  this, 
anyway  ?  "  asked  Balthazar,  who,  owing  to 
his  drenching,  was  in  anything  but  a  good 
humor. 

"  You  poor  fool,"  replied  Cornelius,  with  a 
smile  of  pity  ;  "  now  tell  me,  what  is 
that  ?  " 

"Why,  a  flash  of  lightning,  of  course  !  " 

"  Naturally  !  but  what  is  the  nature  of  that 
flash  ? " 

"  Why,  I  always  supposed  that  all  flashes 
were  alike." 

"  That  shows  how  much  you  know  !  "  an- 
swered Cornelius,  in  a  tone  of  disgust.  "  Now, 
there  are  several  classes  of  lightning ;  For 
instance,  lightning  of  the  first  class  is  gener- 
ally in  the  form  of  a  luminous  furrow  and  is 
very  crooked  and  forked,  affecting  a  zig-zag 
movement,  and  of  a  white  or  purple  color ; 
then,  there  is  the  lightning  of  the  second  class, 
an  extended  sheet  of  flame,  usually  red,  and 
which  embraces  the  entire  horizon  in  circum- 
ference ;  and  finally  lightning  of  the  third  class, 
which  is  invariably  in  the  form  of  a  rebound- 
ing, rolling,  spherical  body  ;  the  question  is 
whether  it  is  really  globular  in  shape  or 
merely  an  optical  illusion  ?  This  is  exactly 
the  problem  I  have  been  trying  to  solve  !  I 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  153 

suppose  you  will  say  that  these  globes  of  fire 
have  been  sufficiently  observed  by  Howard, 
Schiibler,  Kamtz— " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  anything  at  all  about 
such  rot,  so  I  won't  venture  an  opinion.  The 
rain  is  coming  down  again  and  I  want  to  go 
home." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  calmly  replied  Corne- 
lius ;  "  and  as  soon  as  I  have  seen  a  spherical 
or  globular  flash  I  will — " 

"  I  haven't  time  to  wait  ;  besides,  I  would 
be  a  fool  when  I  only  have  to  go  a  hundred 
feet  to  reach  my  door.  If  you  want  a  good 
fire,  a  good  supper,  a  good  bed  and  a  good 
pipe,  you  will  be  welcome  ;  and  if  you  want  to 
look  at  a  globe,  why,  the  globe  of  my  lamp  is 
at  your  disposal.  I  can  say  no  more." 

"  Stop  a  moment,  my  flash  will  be  along 
presently." 

Balthazar,  whose  patience  was  now  well- 
nigh  exhausted,  was  preparing  to  take  his  de- 
parture, when  suddenly  the  sky  was  lighted 
up  by  a  bright  flash,  while  the  thunder  burst 
with  a  loud  report  a  short  distance  away.  The 
shock  was  so  violent  that  it  almost  knocked 
Balthazar  over. 

"  That  was  a  spherical  globe,  and  no  mis- 
take !  "  joyfully  exclaimed  Cornelius  ;  "  I 
have  made  a  wonderful  discovery  :  let's  go 
to  supper  !  "  Balthazar  rubbed  his  eyes  and 


154  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

felt  of  his  limbs  to  assure  himself  that  he  was 

still  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

"  The  lightning  struck  near  my  house  !  " 
"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Cornelius,  "  it  was  in 

the  direction  of  the  Hebrew  quarter." 

Balthazar  did  not  stop  to  hear  any  more, 

but  started   off  on   a  dead   run ;    Cornelius 

picked   up  his  little  bits  of  paper  and  was 

soon  following  at  his  heels,  in  spite  of  the 

drenching  rain. 


CHAPTER   II. 

AN  hour  later  the  two  friends,  having  en- 
joyed a  bountiful  supper,  seated  themselves 
in  comfortable  chairs,  and,  between  the  whiffs 
of  their  meerschaums,  laughed  at  the  storm 
which  was  still  raging  furiously  outside. 

"  This  is  what  I  call  real  enjoyment,"  re- 
marked Cornelius.  "  A  good  bottle  of  white 
curacao,  a  good  fire,  good  tobacco,  and  a 
congenial  friend  to  talk  to  ;  am  I  not  right, 
Christina  ? " 

Christina  came  and  went ;  she  was  here, 
there  and  everywhere  at  the  same  time,  remov- 
ing plates  and  placing  fresh  glasses  and  a 
huge  earthen  jug  on  the  table.  At  the  men- 
tion of  her  name  by  Cornelius  she  blushed  a 
fiery  red,  but  said  nothing  in  reply. 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  155 

Christina  ( it  is  high  time  that  we  tell  you) 
was  a  young  girl  who  had  been  raised  out  of 
charity,  in  the  house  of  our  friend  Balthazar. 

Shortly  after  the  death  of  her  husband, 
Madame  Van  der  Lys,  Balthazar's  mother, 
felt  some  one  tugging  at  her  dress  as  she  was 
kneeling  at  her  devotions  one  Sunday  morn- 
ing ;  fearing  that  some  one  was  trying  to  pick 
her  pocket  she  grasped  the  hand  of  the  sup- 
posed offender.  The  hand  belonged  to  a 
little  girl,  and  was  as  cute  and  small  as  it  is 
possible  for  a  hand  to  be.  The  good  woman 
was  deeply  moved  at  this  exhibition  of  crime 
in  one  so  young,  and  her  first  thought  was 
to  let  the  little  one  go  ;  but  she  finally  decided 
to  give  the  waif  a  home,  like  the  dear,  good 
woman  that  she  was.  Then  she  led  little 
Christina  out  of  the  church  and  made  her 
accompany  her  home,  the  child  crying  all  the 
while  with  fear  that  her  aunt  would  whip  her. 
Madame  Van  der  Lys  told  her  not  to  be  afraid, 
and  succeeded  at  last  in  obtaining  the  informa- 
tion that  the  child's  parents  belonged  to  that 
class  of  idlers  who  spend  their  time  in  running 
about  fairs  and  kermesses  ;  that  the  child  had 
been  broken  in  at  an  early  age  to  all  the  tricks 
adopted  by  strolling  mountebanks;  that  the 
father  had  been  killed  while  performing  a 
dangerous  feat  on  the  horizontal  bar  ;  that 
the  mother  died  in  want  and  misery ;  and 


156  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

finally  that  the  aunt  was  an  old  hag  who  used 
to  beat  her  black  and  blue,  and  who  was  in- 
structing her  in  all  the  branches  of  crime.  I 
do  not  know  whether  you  have  ever  met 
Madame  Van  der  Lys,  but  she  was  as  good  a 
woman  as  her  son  is  good  a  man.  She  there- 
fore decided  to  keep  the  child,  whom  the  aunt 
never  called  to  reclaim.  She  brought  her  up 
well  and  had  her  educated  by  an  excellent 
woman.  It  was  not  long  before  the  little 
waif  knew  how  to  spell,  read,  and  write,  and 
she  soon  became  a  model  of  good  manners 
and  refinement.  Then,  when  the  old  lady 
shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil  she  had  the  satis- 
faction of  leaving  behind  her,  in  addition  to 
Gudule,the  cook,  a  lass  of  fifteen  who  was  as 
bright  as  a  florin,  and  who  would  never  permit 
her  master's  fire  to  go  out  for  want  of  proper 
attention.  In  addition  to  all  these  good 
qualities,  she  was  polite,  refined,  clever  and 
pretty  :  at  least  such  was  the  opinion  of  our 
friend  Cornelius,  who  had  discovered  in  her 
eyes  a  look  not  at  all  unlike  a  flash  of  light- 
ning of  the  third  class.  But,  a  truce  to  this  ! 
If  I  gossip  any  more  I  will  be  divulging  family 
secrets  ! 

I  will  add,  however,  that  Christina  always 
gave  Cornelius  a  hearty  welcome  because  he 
brought  her  interesting  books.  The  young 
savant  made  a  greater  fuss  over  this  little 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  157 

housekeeper  than  over  all  the  painted  beau- 
ties of  the  town.  But  it  seemed  as  if  the 
storm  had  paralyzed  the  young  girl's  tongue. 
She  had  declined  to  take  her  seat  at  the  table, 
and,  under  the  pretext  of  waiting  on  the  two 
friends,  she  came  and  went,  scarcely  listening 
to  what  they  had  to  say,  replying  only  in 
monosyllables,  and  making  the  sign  of  the 
cross  every  time  there  was  a  flash  of  lightning. 
Shortly  after  their  supper,  Balthazar  turned 
round  to  ask  her  a  question  but  she  was  no 
longer  there,  having  retired  to  her  room.  He 
rose  from  his  chair,  and  approaching  the  door 
of  her  room,  listened  attentively ;  but  as 
all  was  silent  he  was  evidently  convinced  that 
the  young  girl  was  already  fast  asleep,  for  he 
returned  to  his  place  and  sat  down  beside 
Cornelius  who  was  busily  engaged  filling  his 
pipe. 

"  What's  wrong  with  Christina  to-night  ?" 
he  asked,  pointing  to  her  room. 

"Oh, it's  the  storm,"  replied  Balthazar; 
"  women  are  so  timid  !  " 

"  If  it  were  otherwise,  we  would  be  deprived 
of  the  pleasure  of  protecting  them  as  we  would 
children — especially  Christina,  who  is  any- 
thing but  strong.  I  really  can't  look  at  her 
without  crying  ;  she  is  so  frail,  so  delicate  !  " 

"  Oh,  ho,  master  Cornelius  !  "  exclaimed 
Balthazar,  with  a  knowing  smile  ;  "  you  are 


1 5 8  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

almost  as  enthusiastic  over  Christina  as  you 
were  over  the  lightning  a  little  while  ago  !  " 

Cornelius  blushed  to  the  very  roots  of  his 
hair  as  he  replied  :  "Oh,  it's  not  the  same 
kind  of  enthusiasm,  however !  " 

"  I  suppose  not ! "  remarked  Balthazar  with 
a  hearty  laugh.  Then  taking  Cornelius  by 
the  hand  and  looking  him  square  in  the  face, 
he  added  :  "  Come  now,  you  don't  imagine 
that  I  can't  see  what  is  going  on  ?  You  don't 
only  amuse  yourself  at  flying  your  kite  over 
the  Amstel,  overgrown  boy  that  you  are,  but 
you  also  play  at  racquets  with  Christina,  and 
your  two  hearts  answer  the  place  of  shuttle- 
cocks." 

"  What,  you  suppose  that — "  muttered  the 
savant,  evidently  confused. 

"  For  over  three  months  I  have  known  that 
it  was  not  merely  to  see  my  beautiful  counte- 
nance that  you  have  called  here  twice  a  day — 
at  noon,  on  your  way  to  the  zoological  garden, 
and  at  four  on  your  way  home." 

"  But  this  is  the  shortest  way,"  ventured 
Cornelius. 

"  Yes,  I  know— to  the  heart !  " 

"  But—" 

"  Come,  now,  let  us  reason  :  Christina  is 
unlike  most  girls  of  her  age  ;  she  has  a  wise 
head  and  a  loving  heart,  I  assure  you  ;  she 
is  certainly  clever  enough  to  admire  and  ap- 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  159 

preciate  such  a  talented  person  as  Mijnheer 
Cornelius  Pump,  who  thinks  nothing  of  lend- 
ing her  his  rare  books.  You  squeeze  her 
hands  you  are  solicitous  for  her  health.  You 
read  her  a  regular  lecture  on  chemistry 
every  time  you  see  a  spot  on  her  dress,  on 
natural  history  whenever  you  see  a  pot  of 
flowers,  and  on  anatomy  whenever  you  see  the 
cat  !  She  listens  to  what  you  have  to  say  with 
open  ears,  and  a  look  of  attention  which  is 
really  charming  ;  and  yet  you  would  pretend 
that  love  is  a  minor  consideration  in  all  this, 
especially  when  the  man  of  science  is  only 
twenty-five  and  his  pupil  just  eighteen  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  I  do  love  her,  since  you  will 
have  it  so  !  "  answered  Cornelius,  with  a  look 
of  defiance  in  his  eyes.  "  So  kindly  tell  me 
what  you  propose  to  do  about  it !  " 

"  That's  for  you  to  say—" 

"  Oh,  I  intend  to  make  her  my  wife  !  " 

"  Then,  why  the  mischief  don't  you  tell  her 
so!" 

"  That's  precisely  what  I  intend  to  do." 

Then  embrace  me  !  "  exclaimed  Balthazar, 
"  and  drink  to  the  health  of  Cupid,  for  I,  too, 
am  going  to  get  married  !  " 

"  I  congratulate  you,  my  boy  ;  and  who  is 
the  fortunate  one  ?  " 

"  And  I  am  going  to  marry  Mademoiselle 
Suzanne  Van  Miellis,  the  daughter  of  the 


1 60  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRA  R  Y. 

rich  banker,"  continued  Balthazar,  all  in  one 
breath. 

Cornelius  gave  a  low  whistle,  which,  trans- 
lated, means  :  the  devil  ! 

Balthazar  continued  : 

"  And  just  think  of  it — I  have  loved  her  for 
over  six  years  !  I  never  wanted  to  pop  the 
question  because  I  was  afraid  her  father 
would  tell  me  that  it  was  his  money  and  not 
his  daughter  that  I  was  after.  But  my  oppor- 
tunity came  at  last.  Her  father  died  a  short 
time  ago,  leaving  her  his  sole  heiress  :  she  is 
one  of  the  wealthiest  girls  in  the  town." 

"  The  wealthiest  by  far,"  gravely  inter- 
rupted Cornelius. 

"  One  day  as  we  were  walking  together  by 
the  river  she  stopped  for  a  moment  and  look- 
ing into  my  eyes,  she  said  :  '  Now,  my  friend, 
I  don't  want  you  to  bear  me  any  ill-feeling  for 
what  I  am  going  to  say  ;  but,  since  the  death 
of  my  father,  and  coming  into  my  inheritance, 
I  assure  you  that  I  am  most  unhappy.  I  can 
no  longer  distinguish  between  those  who  love 
me  for  my  riches  and  those  who  love  me  for 
myself ;  there  are  so  many  who  pretend  to 
adore  me  that  I  am  suspicious  of  them  all ; 
and  I  would  rather  throw  my  fortune  into  the 
Amstel  than  wed  a  man  who  would  aspire  to 
my  hand  through  mercenary  motives  ! 

"  '  Ah,  mademoiselle,"  I  sighed  ;    you  can 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  161 

understand  that  I  was  not  over-anxious  to  be 
mistaken  for  one  of  these  fortune  hunters. 

"  '  Oh,  my  dear  friend,'  she  exclaimed;  '  I 
know  that  you  are  not  that  kind  of  a  man. 
Now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  my  ideal  of  a  hus- 
band. I  would  never  accept  the  love  of  a  man 
who  had  not  cared  for  me  previous  to  the 
death  of  my  father.  Ah  !  I  would  indeed  be 
confident  of  that  man's  love,  and  I  would  re- 
turn it  to  him  a  hundred-fold  ! ' 

"  '  Then  I  am  that  man  !  '  I  cried  out ;  « I 
have  loved  you  for  over  six  long  years,  and 
I  never  dared  to  tell  you  so,  although  you 
must  have  noticed  that  I  was  slowly  but 
surely  dying  for  the  want  of  your  affection  ! ' 
Then  she  looked  down  at  the  ground,  and 
whispered  :  '  Maybe  I  have,  '  and  she  looked 
at  me  as  if  trying  to  read  the  truth  in  my  eyes. 
It  was  easy  to  see  that  she  wanted  to  believe 
what  I  said,  but  was  afraid  to  do  so. 

"  '  Then  you  can  prove  the  truth  of  your 
assertion,  '  she  remarked,  after  a  brief  pause. 
'  Do  you  remember  the  first  time  we  met,  you 
gave  me  a  bunch  of  flowers  ?  One  of  these 
was  in  the  shape  of  a  little  heart,  with  two 
blue  wings  on  each  side.  Well  then — '  '  I 
know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  Then  as  we 
were  looking  at  this  little  flower  together,  our 
heads  almost  touched  and  your  curls  brushed 
against  my  face  ;  as  you  perceived  how  close 


1 6  2  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRA  R  Y. 

we  were  to  one  another  ;  you  suddenly  drew 
back,  and  the  flower  was  detached  from  its 
stem.  I  can  still  hear  your  little  cry  of  dis- 
appointment ringing  in  my  ears.  Then  you 
began  to  cry,  and,  as  you  were  not  looking  I 
picked  up  the  little  flower.'  '  And  you  have 
it  ? '  she  asked.  '  Yes  I  have  always  kept  it 
as  a  souvenir  of  the  happiest  moment  in  my 
existence.  I  will  bring  it  with  me  the  next 
time  I  call. ' 

"  You  should  have  seen  the  look  of  joy 
which  spread  over  Suzanne's  countenance  at 
that  moment  !  She  held  out  her  pretty  hand 
which  I  eagerly  grasped  and  carried  to  my 
lips.  '  Ah  my  friend,'  said  she,  '  this  is  all  I 
wanted  to  know,  and  I  am  indeed  happy  ! 
If  you  picked  up  that  little  flower  it  was  be- 
cause you  loved  me  already  at  that  time,  and 
if  you  have  preserved  it,  'tis  because  you 
love  me  still  !  Bring  it  to-morrow  ;  it  will  be 
the  most  welcome  wedding  gift  you  could 
possibly  give  me  !  ' 

"  Oh,  my  dear  old  Cornelius,  judge  of  my 
surprise,  of  my  delight  when  I  heard  <hose 
words  !  I  was  tempted  to  do  something  rash; 
I  was  wild  with  joy.  Suddenly  her  mother 
happened  along.  I  threw  my  arms  around  the 
old  lady's  neck  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks 
— this  cooled  me  off.  Then  I  grabbed  my 
hat  and  took  to  my  heels,  intending  to  return 


THE   BLACK  PEARL.  163 

with  the  flower  this  very  night.  But  this  con- 
founded storm  has  upset  all  my  plans,  and  I 
will  have  to  postpone  my  visit  until  to-morrow. 
There,  you  have  the  whole  story  of  my  court- 
ship in  a  nutshell  !  " 

"  May  heaven  be  praised  !  "  exclaimed 
Cornelius  as  he  threw  his  arms  around  his 
friend.  "  Two  weddings  at  the  same  time  ! 
Long  live  Madame  Balthazar  !  Long  live 
Madame  Cornelius  !  Here's  to  the  little  Bal- 
thazars and  the  little  Corneliuses  !  " 

"  Will  you  be  quiet  !  "  laughingly  remarked 
Balthazar,  placing  his  hand  over  his  friend's 
mouth  in  order  to  silence  him.  "  You  will 
wake  up  Christina." 

"  Oh,  I  won't  say  another  word,  I  promise 
you.  And  now  show  me  your  celebrated 
flower  with  its  blue  wings." 

"  I  have  it  locked  up  in  a  little  steel  casket, 
which  is  hidden  away  with  a  lot  ©f  jewelry 
in  my  desk.  I  have  had  it  framed  in  a  little 
locket,  surrounded  with  gold  and  black 
pearls.  I  was  looking  at  it  only  this  morn- 
ing ;  it  is  charming.  You  can  judge  for 
yourself." 

So  saying,  he  took  up  the  lamp,  and,  taking 
a  huge  bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket,  he 
opened  the  door  of  his  study.  He  had  hardly 
crossed  the  threshold  when  Cornelius  heard 
him  cry  out  in  surprise.  He  rose  to  go  to 


1 64  ROMA  NT  1C  LIBRAR  Y. 

his  assistance,  when  Balthazar,  pale  as  death, 
reappeared  in  the  entrance: 
'  "  My  God  !    Cornelius." 

"  What  is  it  ?  what  is  wrong  ? "  exclaimed 
the  man  of  science. 

"  Great  heavens  !     I  am  ruined  !      Come 
here  !    Look  !  " 

And  Balthazar  raised  his  lamp  so  as  to 
light  up  the  interior  of  his  study. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WHAT  Cornelius  saw  justified  Balthazar's 
exclamation  of  surprise.  The  floor  was  liter- 
ally strewn  with  papers  of  all  kinds,  and  this 
profusion  of  documents  clearly  proved  that 
something  extraordinary  had  occurred.  A 
large  portfolio  in  which  Balthazar  kept  all 
his  private  papers  was  torn  open,  notwith- 
standing that  it  had  a  steel  lock,  and  was 
thrown  carelessly  on  the  floor,  the  papers  it 
had  contained  being  scattered  far  and  wide. 

But  this  was  nothing  when  compared  with 
that  which  was  to  follow.  Balthazar  now 
rushed  up  to  his  secretaire.  The  lock  had 
been  forced.  The  top  of  the  desk  had  been 
completely  hacked  to  pieces,  a  great  portion 
being  reduced  to  splinters.  The  nails  were 
twisted  all  out  of  shape,  and  the  screws  and 


THE   BLACK  PEARL.  165 

hinges  had  alike  received  rough  usage.  As 
to  the  lid,  it  had  been  forced  so  as  to  permi*- 
the  introduction  of  a  hand  in  the  pigeon-holes 
and  private  drawers. 

But,  strange  to  relate,  most  of  the  drawers 
containing  valuable  papers  had  not  been 
touched  by  the  thief,  his  attention  evidently 
having  been  entirely  absorbed  in  the  con- 
tents of  those  which  had  contained  gold  and 
silver.  About  fifteen  hundred  ducats,  two 
hundred  florins  and  the  little  steel  casket 
filled  with  jewels,  of  which  we  have  heard 
Balthazar  speak,  were  missing.  This  drawer 
was  completely  empty ;  everything  had  dis- 
appeared, gold,  silver,  jewels,  without  leav- 
ing a  trace  behind  ;  and  Balthazar  experi- 
enced a  still  greater  loss  when,  on  picking 
up  the  steel  casket  from  the  floor,  he  per- 
ceived that  the  medallion  had  been  taken 
along  with  the  rest  ! 

This  discovery  affected  him  more  than  the 
loss  of  all  his  money.  Rushing  to  the  win- 
dow, he  threw  it  open  and  cried  out  at  the 
top  of  his  voice  : 

"  Help  !     Help  !     Stop  thief  !  " 

All  the  population  turned  out,  and,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  custom,  would  have  an- 
swered this  call  for  aid  with,  "  Fire  !  Here 
we  come  !  "  had  not  the  first  cry  attracted  a 
squad  of  policemen  who  were  passing  that 


1 66  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

way.  They  ran  up  to  Balthazar's  house,  and 
M.  Tricamp,  the  sergeant,  realizing  that  a 
robbery  had  been  committed,  first  cautioned 
him  to  make  less  noise,  and  then  demanded 
that  he  and  his  men  be  admitted  without 
further  delay. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  door  opened  noiselessly  and  M.  Tri- 
camp entered  on  tiptoe,  followed  by  another 
of  his  men,  whom  he  left  on  guard  in  the 
vestibule  with  orders  not  to  permit  any  one 
either  to  come  in  or  go  out.  It  was  almost 
twelve  o'clock  ;  the  neighbors  were  fast  asleep, 
and  it  was  easy  to  see  that  Gudule,  the  deaf 
cook,  and  Christina,  fatigued  by  the  emotions 
caused  by  the  storm,  had  heard  nothing  un- 
usual, as  both  were  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the 
just. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  sergeant,  lowering  his 
voice  ;  "  what  is  it  all  about  ? " 

Balthazar  dragged  him  into  the  study  and 
pointed  to  the  torn  papers  and  broken  secre"- 
taire. 

M.  Tricamp  was  a  little  man,  whose  legs 
were  not  big  enough  to  support  his  unwieldy 
form  ;  nevertheless,  he  was  very  sharp  and 
unusually  active.  He  had  one  more  little 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  167 

peculiarity — he  was  frightfully  near-sighted, 
which  compelled  him  to  look  at  what  he  was 
examining  at  very  short  range. 

He  was  evidently  surprised,  but  it  was  part 
of  his  stock  in  trade  not  to  exhibit  surprise 
at  anything.  He  therefore  contented  himself 
with  muttering  :  "  Very  good  !  Very  good  !  " 
and  he  cast  a  look  of  contentment  around 
the  room. 

"  You  see,  Mijnheer,  what  has  happened  '  " 
exclaimed  Balthazar,  with  a  voice  choked  with 
emotion. 

"  Perfectly  !  "  replied  M.  Tricamp,  with  an 
air  of  importance.  "  The  secretaire  has  been 
broken  open,  your  portfolio  has  been  tam- 
pered with  !  Very  well,  it  is  superb  !  " 

"  Superb  !     Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  They  took  all  the  money,  I  suppose  ? " 
continued  the  sergeant. 

"  Yes,  all  the  money  which  was  in  my  desk." 

"  Good  !  " 

"  And  the  jewels,  and  my  medallion  !  " 

"  Bravo  !  a  case  of  premeditated  robbery  ! 
Capital !  And  you  suspect  no  one  ?  " 

"  No  one,  Mijnheer." 

"  So  much  the  .better.  Then  we  will  have 
the  pleasure  of  discovering  the  criminals." 

Balthazar  and  Cornelius  looked  at  each 
other  in  surprise  ;  but  M.  Tricamp  continued 
in  the  same  unconcerned  manner  : 


168  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

"  Let  us  examine  the  door  !  " 

Balthazar  pointed  to  the  massive  door  of 
the  study,  which  was  provided  with  an  old- 
fashioned  brass  lock,  the  likes  of  which  are 
only  found  in  the  Netherlands  at  the  present 
time. 

Tricamp  turned  the  key.  Crick  !  Crack  ! 
It  was  evident  that  the  lock  had  not  been 
tampered  with. 

"  And  the  window  ? "  asked  the  officer 
handing  Balthazar  the  key  of  the  study. 

"  The  window  was  closed,"  said  Cornelius  ; 
"  we  opened  it  when  we  called  for  assistance. 
Besides,  Mijnheer,  it  has  stout  iron  bars,  and 
no  one  could  possibly  pass  through  there." 

M.  Tricamp  assured  himself  that  such  was 
the  case,  and  he  remarked  that  not  even  a 
child  could  effect  an  entrance  through  those 
bars.  Then  he  closed  and  bolted  the  window 
and  turned  his  attention  towards  the  fire- 
place. 

Balthazar  followed  all  of  his  movements 
without  uttering  a  word. 

M.  Tricamp  leaned  over  and  examined  the 
interior  of  the  fireplace  most  minutely  ;  but 
here  again  nothing  but  failure  rewarded  him 
for  his  trouble.  A  thick  wall  had  been  built 
there  recently,  allowing  only  enough  room 
for  a  small  stove-pipe. 

M.  Tricamp  did  not  question  for  a  moment 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  169 

whether  this  opening  would  permit  the  pas- 
sage of  a  human  being,  for  it  seemed  alto- 
gether too  improbable,  therefore,  when  he 
drew  himself  up,  he  appeared  to  be  anything 
but  pleased. 

"  Hum  !  Hum  !  "  he  muttered  ;  "  the 
devil,"  and  he  looked  up  at  the  ceiling,  hav- 
ing replaced  his  eye-glass  with  a  pair  of 
spectacles.  Then  he  took  the  lamp  from 
Balthazar  and  placed  it  on  the  secretaire, 
removing  the  shade ;  and  this  movement 
suddenly  revealed  to  him  a  clew  which  had 
entirely  escaped  their  attention  until  now. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AN  old  knife,  a  gift  from  a  friend  in  the 
Dutch  Indies,  was  driven  into  the  wainscot- 
ing, about  three  feet  above  the  secretaire  and 
half-way  between  the  floor  and  the  ceiling. 

Now,  what  was  that  old  knife  doing  there  ? 

A  few  hours  previous  to  this  discovery  it 
was  lying  safe  and  snug  in  Balthazar's  desk. 

At  the  same  moment  Tricamp  drew  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  the  wire  which  was 
attached  to  the  bell  was  twisted  and  broken 
and  was  fastened  about  the  handle  of  she 
knife.  He  sprang  upon  a  chair,  and  from 
there  to  the  top  of  the  desk,  from  whence  he 


1 70  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

proceeded  to  examine  this  bit  of  fresh  evi- 
dence. 

.  Suddenly  he  gave  a  cry  of  triumph.  He 
only  had  to  raise  his  hand  between  the  knife 
and  the  picture  moulding  to  ascertain  that  a 
large  piece  of  wall  paper  had  been  cut  out, 
together  with  the  wood  and  the  plastering, 
the  whole  being  replaced  with  a  care  to  defy 
the  closest  inspection. 

This  discovery  was  so  unexpected  that  the 
young  men  could  not  withhold  their  admira- 
tion at  the  sergeant's  skill.  M.  Tricamp 
remarked  that  the  paper  had  been  removed 
with  the  greatest  skill,  thus  denoting  the 
work  of  a  professional  thief.  Raising  himself 
on  tip-toe,  he  placed  his  hand  through  the 
opening  and  assured  himself  that  the  paper 
in  the  adjoining  room  had  been  tampered 
with  in  precisely  the  same  manner. 

There  was  no  longer  any  room  for  doubt ; 
the  thief  had  certainly  entered  the  room 
through  this  aperture.  M.  Tricamp  de- 
scended from  his  pedestal  and  proceeded  to 
describe  the  movements  of  the  malefactors 
from  the  moment  of  their  arrival  until  their 
departure,  just  as  if  he  had  witnessed  the 
whole  performance. 

"The  manner  in  which  that  knife  has  been 
planted  in  the  wall  plainly  proves  that  it  was 
intended  as  a  step  to  assist  the  thief  in  his 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.       17* 

descent.  The  wire  was  used  as  a  sort  of  rope 
by  which  he  guided  himself  on  his  way  back. 
Now,  doesn't  this  strike  you  as  being  rational 
enough  ?" 

Balthazar  and  Cornelius  listened  to  this 
explanation  with  bated  breath.  But  the 
former  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  enthuse 
over  a  description  of  a  theft,  especially  when 
he  was  the  loser  by  the  operation.  What  he 
wanted  to  know  was  where  his  medallion  had 
gone  ;  now  that  he  knew  how  the  thief  had 
entered,  he  was  anxious  to  know  how  he  had 
gone  out. 

"  Have  patience,"  remarked  M.  Tricamp, 
following  up  his  clue  with  professional  pride  ; 
"now  that  we  know  their  movements,  we 
must  assure  ourselves  as  to  their  temper- 
ament— " 

"  What  nonsense  !  We  haven't  the  time  to 
bother  our  heads  about  such  rot !  " 

"  Pardon  me,''  replied  Tricamp,  "  but  in 
my  estimation,  this  is  very  important.  The 
study  of  psychology  in  criminals  is  a  more 
important  feature  than  all  the  quack  exam- 
inations formerly  so  popular  with  the  police." 

"  But,  Mijnheer,  while  you  are  discussing 
the  methods  of  the  police  the  thief  is  running 
away  with  my  money." 

"  Well,  let  him  run,  we  will  catch  him  fast 
enough  !  "  coldly  replied  M.  Tricamp.  "  I 


1 7  2  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

claim  that  it  is  necessary  to  study  the  nature 
of  the  game  in  order  to  run  it  down.  Now, 
.all  robberies  differ  more  or  less ;  and  it  is 
rarely  that  murders  are  committed  in  the 
same  manner.  For  instance,  two  servant 
girls  were  accused  of  stealing  their  mistress's 
shawl.  I  discovered  the  criminal  at  the  first 
glance.  The  thief  had  the  choice  of  two 
cashmeres :  one  was  blue  and  the  other 
white  ;  now,  she  stole  the  blue  one.  One  of 
the  servants  was  a  blonde  and  the  other  had 
red  hair.  I  was  confident  that  the  blonde 
was  guilty — the  red-headed  girl  would  never 
have  selected  the  blue  shawl  on  account  of 
the  combination." 

"  Wonderful !  "  remarked  Cornelius. 

"  Then  hurry  up  and  tell  me  the  name  of 
the  thief,  for  my  patience  is  well-nigh  ex- 
hausted." 

"  I  can't  do  this  at  the  start,  but  I  claim 
that  this  is  the  criminal's  first  robbery.  You 
will  no  doubt  not  credit  this  assertion  as  you 
will  probably  say  to  yourself  that  it  shows  the 
workmanship  of  an  old  hand  ;  but  any  child 
could  loosen  a  bit  of  dried-up  wall-paper.  I 
will  say  nothing  regarding  your  portfolio,  or 
your  broken  secretaire,  for  that  plainly  bears 
the  imprint  of  a  novice's  hand." 

"  Then  you  are  sure  it  is  the  work  of  a 
novice  ? "  interrupted  Cornelius. 


THE   BLACK  PEARL.  173 

"  Undoubtedly.  I  will  add  that  he  is  a 
clumsy  greenhorn.  An  out-and-out  thief 
would  never  have  left  your  room  in  such  dis- 
order ;  he  would  take  more  pride  in  his  work- 
manship. Furthermore,  the  criminal  is 
neither  very  strong  nor  very  tall,  otherwise  he 
could  have  drawn  himself  up  there  without 
the  aid  of  that  knife  and  bit  of  wire." 

"  But  it  must  have  required  considerable 
strength  to  demolish  that  desk  in  that  fash- 
ion." 

"  Not  at  all ;   a  child,  or  even  a  woman — " 

"  A  woman  ?"  exclaimed  Balthazar. 

"Since  I  first  set  my  foot  in  this  room, 
such  has  been  my  impression." 

Balthazar  and  Cornelius  looked  at  one  an- 
other, in  doubt  as  to  whom  he  could  possibly 
suspect. 

"  Now  then,  to  sum  up  :  it  is  a  young  wo- 
man ;  she  must  be  young  or  she  would  not 
climb  so  well — petite,  since  she  needed  a  wire 
to  pull  herself  up  with.  Then,  again,  she 
must  be  familiar  with  your  habits,  for  she 
took  advantage  of  your  absence  to  commit 
the  felony,  and  she  went  direct  to  the  drawer 
in  which  you  kept  your  money,  as  she  appar- 
ently did  not  bother  her  head  about  the  oth- 
ers. In  a  word,  if  you  have  a  young  house- 
keeper or  servant  you  need  look  no  further, 
for  she  is  the  guilty  one  !  " 


174  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

"Christina  ! "  exclaimed  the  young  men  in 
one  breath. 

"  Ah  !  So  there  is  a  Christina  about  the 
premises  !  "  remarked  M.  Tricamp  smilingly  ; 
"  well,  then,  Christina  is  guilty  !  " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BOTH  Cornelius  and  Balthazar  were  pale 
as  death.  Christina !  Little  Christina,  so 
good,  so  kind,  so  pretty,  a  thief — nonsense  ! 
And  then  they  remembered  her  origin  and 
the  manner  in  which  she  was  adopted.  She 
was  only  a  Bohemian  after  all  !  Balthazar 
dropped  into  a  chair  as  if  he  had  been  shot, 
and  Cornelius  felt  as  if  his  heart  had  just 
been  seared  with  a  red-hot  iron. 

"  Will  you  kindly  send  for  this  person," 
suddenly  remarked  M.  Tricamp,  awakening 
them  from  their  reverie.  "  Or,  better  still, 
let  us  visit  her  room." 

"  Her  room — her  room,"  faltered  Baltha- 
zar ;  "  why,  there  it  is,"  and  he  pointed  to  the 
adjoining  apartment. 

"  And  it  took  all  this  time  for  you  to  make 
up  your  mind  who  had  committed  the  theft !  " 
said  the  sergeant  with  a  sneer. 

"  But,"  ventured  Cornelius,  "  she  certainly 
must  have  heard  us." 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  1 75 

Tricamp  picked  up  the  lamp  and,  pushing 
open  the  door  of  the  adjoining  room,  entered, 
followed  by  the  young  men — the  room  was 
empty  !  Simultaneously  they  exclaimed, 
"  She  has  escaped  !  " 

M.  Tricamp  felt  under  the  mattress  to  see 
whether  he  could  find  any  of  the  stolen 
property.  "  She  has  not  even  slept  on  the  bed 
to-night,"  he  said,  after  carefully  inspecting 
the  couch. 

At  the  same  moment  they  heard  the  sound 
of  struggling  outside,  and  the  officer  who 
had  been  left  on  guard  downstairs  entered 
the  room,  pushing  Christina  before  him.  The 
poor  girl  appeared  more  surprised  than 
afraid. 

"  This  young  woman  was  attempting  to 
escape,  Mijnheer  ;  I  arrested  her  just  as  she 
was  drawing  the  bolts  of  the  back  door,"  said 
the  officer. 

Christina  looked  around  her  with  such  an 
air  of  innocence  that  no  one  believed  in  her 
guilt,  excepting,  of  course,  M.  Tricamp. 

"But  do  tell  me  what  this  all  means?" 
asked  she  of  the  officer  who  locked  the  door 
after  her.  "  Why  don't  you  tell  them  who  I 
am,"  she  continued,  addressing  Balthazar. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  have  been  upstairs  with  old  Gudule, 
who,  you  know,  is  afraid  of  the  lightning.  As 


1 76  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

I  was  very  tired,  I  fell  asleep  in  the  arm-chair 
in  her  room.  When  I  awoke  I  looked  out  of 
the  window,  and  as  the  storm  had  ceased  I 
came  downstairs  with  the  intention  of  going 
to  bed  ;  but  I  first  desired  to  assure  myself 
that  you  had  bolted  the  door,  and  it  was  at 
that  moment  that  this  gentleman  placed  his 
hand  on  my  shoulder  and  informed  me  that 
I  was  under  arrest.  And,  I  assure  you,  he 
has  given  me  a  good  fright — " 

"  You  lie  !  "  coarsely  interrupted  M.  Tri- 
camp.  "  You  were  just  going  out  when  my 
man  arrested  you  ;  and  I  will  add  that  you 
did  not  go  to  bed  so  as  to  avoid  the  trouble 
of  dressing  when  the  moment  arrived  for  you 
to  make  your  escape." 

Christina  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 
"  Escape  ?  What  escape  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Ah  !  "  muttered  M.  Tricamp.  "  What 
nerve,  what  deceit  !  " 

"  Come  here,"  said  Balthazar,  who  knew 
not  what  to  believe,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  what 
it  all  means  !  " 

He  took  the  young  girl  by  the  arm  and 
dragged  her  into  the  adjoining  room. 

"  My  God  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  woman, 
as  she  crossed  the  threshold  and  perceived 
the  scene  of  devastation  for  the  first  time  ; 
"  who  could  have  done  this  ?  " 

Her  surprise  seemed  to  be  so  sincere  that 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  177 

Balthazar  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  M. 
Tricamp  was  not  so  easily  affected  ;  he 
dragged  Christina  by  the  arm  up  to  the  secre- 
taire and  exclaimed  : 

"  You  did  it ! " 

"  I  !  "  cried  out  Christina,  who  did  not  as 
yet  realize  what  it  all  meant. 

She  looked  at  Balthazar  as  if  to  read  his 
thoughts,  then  she  cast  a  glance  at  the  drawer 
of  the  secretaire,  and  seeing  that  it  was 
empty,  she  realized  at  last  the  terrible  mean- 
ing of  their  accusation.  With  a  heart-rend- 
ing cry,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  My  God  !  And  you  say  I  have  done 
this  ! " 

But  no  one  had  the  courage  to  answer  her  ; 
Christina  advanced  a  step  closer  to  Balthazar, 
but  he  only  lowered  his  eyes  at  her  approach. 
Suddenly  she  raised  her  hand  to  her  heart, 
as  if  she  were  suffocating — she  attempted  to 
speak — she  tried  to  pronounce  two  or  three 
words,  but  all  she  could  say  was  :  "  A  thief  ! 
They  say  I  am  a  thief !  "  and  she  fell  back- 
wards on  the  floor  as  if  dead  !  Cornelius 
precipitated  himself  towards  her  and  raised 
her  gently  in  his  arms. 

"  No  ! "  he  cried  ;  "  no  !  it  is  impossible  ! 
This  child  is  innocent !  " 

Then  he  carried  the  young  girl  into  her 
room  and  laid  her  on  the  bed.  Balthazar 


1 78  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

followed  him,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he 
was  deeply  affected.  M.  Tricamp,  still  smil- 
ing, entered  immediately  after  them,  but  one 
of  his  officers  motioned  to  him  that  he  had 
something  to  communicate  to  him. 

"  Mijnheer,  we  already  have  obtained  some 
information  regarding  this  young  woman." 

"  Well,  and  what  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  The  baker  across  the  way  says  that  a 
little  while  before  the  storm  he  saw  Made- 
moiselle Christina  at  the  window  of  the  ground 
floor.  She  slipped  a  package  to  a  man  who 
was  standing  outside  ;  this  man  wore  a  long 
cloak  and  a  slouch  hat — " 

"  A  package,  eh  ?  "  muttered  M.  Tricamp  ; 
"  excellent !  Now,  secure  the  witness  and 
keep  a  sharp  watch  outside.  In  the  first 
place,  go  and  send  the  cook  to  me  at  once." 

The  officer  withdrew,  and  M.  Tricamp  en- 
tered Christina's  room. 

The  young  woman  was  stretched  out  on 
the  bed  in  a  dead  faint,  and  Cornelius  was 
rubbing  her  hands.  Without  stopping  to 
notice  the  condition  of  the  girl,  he  proceeded 
with  his  examination  of  the  premises.  He 
started  in  with  the  bureau  and  overhauled  all 
the  drawers.  Then  he  approached  Balthazar 
with  a  smile  of  satisfaction  on  his  face. 

"After  all,  what  proof  is  there  that  this 
young  girl  is  guilty?"  asked  the  latter  as 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  *79 

he  gazed  tenderly  upon  the  unconscious 
woman. 

"  Why,  this  !  "  answered  M.  Tricamp,  as  he 
handed  Balthazar  one  of  the  missing  pearls. 

"  Where  did  you  find  this  ? " 

"There,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  top  drawer 
of  Christina's  bureau. 

Balthazar  rushed  up  to  the  drawer  and 
began  to  overhaul  all  of  the  young  girl's 
effects,  but  his  search  did  not  result  in  his 
finding  any  more  of  the  stolen  jewels. 

At  this  moment  Christina  opened  her  eyes, 
and  looking  around  her  as  if  to  recall  the 
situation,  burst  into  tears  as  she  buried  her 
face  in  the  pillow. 

"  Oh,  ho !  "  ejaculated  M.  Tricamp,  "  tears, 
eh  ?  She  is  going  to  confess ";  and  as  he 
leaned  over  her,  he  added  in  his  sweetest 
voice :  "  Come,  my  child,  return  good  for 
evil  and  confess  the  truth.  Confession  is 
good  for  the  soul.  After  all,  we  are  not  all 
perfect.  Now,  I  suppose,  you  permitted 
yourself  to  be  led  astray,  or  you  allowed 
yourself  to  succumb  to  a  passion  for  finery. 
You  wanted  to  make  yourself  look  pretty,  eh, 
my  dear,  to  please  some  one  you  love  ? " 

"What  an  idea,  Mijnheer,"  interrupted 
Cornelius. 

"  Hush,  young  man  !  I  know  what  I  am 
talking  about.  This  woman  has  an  accom- 


1 80  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRA  R  Y. 

plice  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Tricamp  ";  and 
leaning  over  Christina,  he  continued  :  "  Am 
I  not  right,  my  dear  ?  " 

"Oh,  why  don't  you  kill  me,  instead  of 
torturing  me  thus  ! "  cried  Christina  with  a 
fresh  outburst  of  tears. 

"  This  was  so  unexpected  that  M.  Tricamp 
started  back  in  surprise. 

"  Kindly  leave  us  alone  with  the  girl,  Mijn- 
heer  ;  your  presence  irritates  her,"  remarked 
Balthazar  ;  "  if  she  has  anything  to  confess 
she  will  do  so  to  my  friend  and  I." 

M.  Tricamp  bowed  himself  out  of  the  room. 

"  Oh,  just  as  you  please,"  he  replied,  "  but 
be  very  careful ;  she  is  a  clever  minx." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CORNELIUS  almost  closed  the  door  in  the 
sergeant's  face  ;  then  the  two  young  men  ap- 
proached Christina,  who  had  assumed  a  sitting 
posture,  and  was  staring  before  her  into  space. 

"  Come,  my  child,"  said  Balthazar,  as  he 
held  out  his  hand  ;  "  we  are  now  alone  ;  you 
are  with  friends,  so  you  need  not  be  afraid." 

"  I  don't  want  to  stay  here  !  I  want  to  go 
away  !  Oh,  let  me — let  me  go  !  " 

"  No,  Christina,  you  can  not  leave  here 
until  you  answer  us,"  said  Cornelius. 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  181 

"  Tell  us  the  truth,  I  beg  of  you,  Christi- 
na," added  Balthazar,  "  and  I  promise  you 
no  harm  will  come  to  you — I  swear  it  on  my 
honor.  I  will  forgive  you,  and  no  one  will 
ever  know  of  this — I  swear  it  Christina,  I 
swear  it  before  God  ! — don't  you  hear  me, 
my  child  ? " 

"  Yes  ! "  answered  Christina,  who  did  not 
appear  to  be  listening.  "  Oh,  if  I  could  only 
cry — if  I  could  only  cry  !  " 

Cornelius  seized  the  young  girl's  burning 
hands  in  his.  "  Christina,  my  child,  God  for- 
gives us  all,  and  we  love  you  too  much  not  to 
pardon  you.  Listen  to  me,  I  beg  you.  Don't 
you  recognize  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Christina,  as  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"  Well  then,  I  love  you,  do  you  hear  ? — I 
love  you  with  all  my  heart  !  " 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  young  girl  as  she  burst 
into  tears  ;  "  and  yet  you  believe  that  I  am  a 
thief ! " 

"  No,  no  !  "  hastily  exclaimed  Cornelius, 
"  I  do  not  believe  it,  I  do  not  believe  it !  but, 
my  dear  child,  you  must  help  me  to  justify  you, 
you  must  assist  me  to  discover  the  criminal, 
and  to  do  this  you  must  be  frank  and  tell  me 
everything." 

"  Yes,  you  are  good,  you  alone  are  kind  to 
me.  You  pity  me  and  do  not  believe  what 


1 82  ROMANTIC  LIBRA R  Y. 

they  say  !  they  accuse  me  because  I  am  a  Bo- 
hemian— because  I  stole  when  I  was  a  child. 
And  they  call  me  a  thief! — a  thief! — They 
call  me  a  thief  !!— " 

And  she  fell  backwards  on  the  bed,  sob- 
bing as  if  her  heart  would  burst. 

Balthazar  could  stand  this  no  longer :  he 
fell  upon  his  knees  by  the  side  of  the  bed, 
and  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  pity  as  if  he  him- 
self was  the  accused  instead  of  the  accuser  : 

"  Christina,  my  sister,  my  child,  my  daugh- 
ter— look  at  me  !  I  am  on  my  knees  before 
you  !  I  ask  your  forgiveness  for  the  wrong  I 
have  done  you.  No  one  will  say  anything, 
no  one  will  do  anything  ;  it  is  all  over  ! — do 
you  hear  ?  I  hope  you  do  not  wish  to  repay 
all  the  kindness  my  mother  and  I  have  shown 
you  by  making  me  suffer  all  the  tortures  of 
the  damned  ?  Well  then,  I  beg  you,  to  tell 
me  what  has  become  of  my  little  medallion — 
(I  do  not  ask  you  where  it  is,  you  understand  ? 
— I  do  not  wish  to  know  that,  for  I  do  not 
suspect  you).  But  if  you  do  know  where  it 
is,  I  beg  of  you  to  help  me  find  it.  I  implore 
you  by  the  love  you  bore  my  mother,  whom 
you  called  your  own,  I  implore  you  to  find 
it — this  is  all  I  want.  My  future  happiness 
depends  on  the  recovery  of  this  jewel — give 
me  back  my  medallion — please  give  me  back 
my  medallion." 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  183 

"  Oh  !  "  answered  Christina  in  despair, 
"  I  would  give  my  life  to  be  able  to  tell  you 
where  it  is  !  " 

"  Christina  !  " 

"  But  I  haven't  got  it ;  I  haven't  got  it !  " 
she  cried,  wringing  her  hands. 

Balthazar,  exasperated,  sprang  to  his  feet : 
"  But,  wretched  woman — " 

Cornelius  silenced  him  with  a  gesture,  and 
Christina  raised  her  hands  to  her  forehead. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said,  as  she  burst  into  a  loud 
laugh,  "  when  I  am  mad,  this  farce  will  be 
ended,  I  suppose  ?  " 

And,  overcome  with  emotion,  she  fell  back- 
ward, hiding  her  face  in  the  pillow  as  if  de- 
termined not  to  utter  another  word. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CORNELIUS  dragged  Balthazar  out  of  the 
room  ;  he  staggered  as  though  he  had  been 
shot.  In  the  other  room  they  found  M.  Tri- 
camp,  who  had  not  been  wasting  his  time. 
He  had  been  cross-examining  the  old  cook, 
Gudule,  who,  most  unceremoniously  aroused 
by  one  of  the  officers,  was  still  half  asleep. 

"  Come,  come,  my  good  woman,"  remarked 
M.  Tricamp,  "control  yourself,  if  you 
please  !  " 


1 84  ROMANTIC  L1BRAR  Y. 

"  Oh,  my  good  master,  my  good  master  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  as  Balthazar  entered  the  room 
accompanied  by  Cornelius.  "  What's  the 
matter ;  they  dragged  me  out  of  bed,  and 
they  are  asking  me  all  kinds  of  questions  ! 
For  mercy's  sake,  tell  me  what  it  is  all 
about!" 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  good  woman,"  said 
Balthazar  kindly  ;  "  you  have  nothing  to  do 
with  all  this.  But  I  have  been  robbed  and 
we  are  looking  for  the  thief." 

"  You  have  been  robbed  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  My  God  !  I  have  lived  in  this  house  for 
over  thirty  years,  and  not  as  much  as  a  pin 
was  ever  stolen  before  !  Oh,  Mijnheer,  why 
didn't  they  wait  until  I  was  dead  before  they 
began  their  thieving  !  " 

"  Come,  come,  don't  give  way  like  that,  my 
good  woman,"  said  M.  Tricamp. 

"You  will  have  to  speak  a  little  louder, 
Mijnheer,  the  woman  is  deaf,"  remarked  Bal- 
thazar. 

"  Now,  I  want  to  know  whether  you  were 
in  the  house  when  the  robbery  was  com- 
mitted ? "  continued  M.  Tricamp,  raising  his 
voice. 

"  But  I  never  go  out  at  all,  Mijnheer." 

"  Didn't  you  go  out  at  all  this  evening  ?  " 

"  I  wasn't  outside  the  house  ;  besides,  it 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  185 

was  very  stormy,  and  at  my  age  one  doesn't 
venture  out  in  a  blinding  rain-storm  for 
fun." 

"  Then  you  were  in  your  room  ? " 

"  No,  Mijnheer,  I  was  in  the  kitchen  most 
of  the  day,  knitting  by  the  stove." 

"And  you  never  left  the  kitchen  for  a 
moment  ? " 

"  Not  for  a  minute — until  I  went  upstairs 
to  bed." 

"  Is  your  eyesight  good  ?  " 

"  Mijnheer  ?  "  questioned  Gudule,  not  hav- 
ing heard  aright. 

"  I  asked  you  if  you  had  good  eyes,"  re- 
peated M.  Tricamp. 

"  Oh  !  I  can  see  all  right,  even  if  I  am  a 
little  bit  hard  of  hearing.  And  I  have  a  good 
memory,  too — " 

"  So  you  have  a  good  memory,  eh  ?  Then 
tell  me  who  called  here  to-day." 

"  Oh,  there  was  the  postman  ;  and  a  neigh- 
bor who  called  to  borrow  a  pie-plate — and 
Petersen  who  came  to  ask  something  of 
Christina." 

"  Indeed  !    And  who  is  this  Petersen  ?  " 

"  A  neighbor,  Mijnheer ;  a  night-watch- 
man ;  my  master  knows  him  well." 

"  Yes,"  said  Balthazar,  addressing  the  ser- 
geant, "  he  is  a  poor  devil  who  lost  his  wife  a 
month  ago,  and  his  two  little  children  are 


I 86  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

both  sick.     We  help  the  poor   fellow   from 
time  to  time." 

.     "  And  this  Petersen  was  in  the  house  to- 
day ? " 

"  No,  Mijnheer,"  replied  Gudule  ;  "  he 
only  spoke  to  Christina  from  the  sidewalk." 

"  And  what  did  he  tell  her  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  hear,  Mijnheer." 

"  And  did  no  one  else  call  after  him  ?  " 

Gudule  asked  him  to  repeat  the  question, 
then  she  replied  : 

"  No  one  at  all." 

"  And  where  was  Christina  while  you  were 
knitting  ? " 

"  Why,  the  dear  child  was  looking  after  the 
cooking  for  me,  as  I  was  too  tired  to  move 
from  my  chair.  She  is  so  kind  and  oblig- 
ing !  " 

"  But  she  wasn't  in  the  kitchen  all  the 
time  ? " 

"  No,  Mijnheer,  she  retired  to  her  own 
room  towards  evening." 

"  So  you  say  she  retired  to  her  own  room 
towards  evening  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mijnheer,  to  dress  for  supper." 

"  And — did  she  remain  in  her  room  a  long 
time  ?  " 

"  About  an  hour,  Mijnheer." 

"  An  hour?  " 

"  Yes,  fully  an  hour,  Mijnheer." 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  187 

"  And  you  heard  nothing  during  all  this 
time  ? " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon — " 

"  I  asked  you  if  you  heard  any  noise — for 
instance,  the  sound  of  some  one  hammering 
wood  ?  " 

"  No,  Mijnheer." 

"  Yes,  gentleman,  she  is  as  deaf  as  a  door- 
post," said  M.  Tricamp,  turning  towards  the 
young  men.  Then  he  approached  Gudule  and 
raising  his  voice  he  added  : 

"  I  suppose  the  storm  was  at  its  height  at 
this  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  mijnheer,  I  could  hear  the  thun- 
der plain  enough." 

"  She  has  no  doubt  confounded  the  noise 
made  by  the  thief,  in  breaking  in,  with  the 
roar  of  the  elements,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self. "  And  then  ?  "  he  asked  of  Gudule  in 
a  louder  voice. 

"  And  then,  Mijnheer,  night  had  fallen  and 
the  storm  raged  furiously  ;  master  had  not 
returned.  I  was  terribly  frightened,  I  got 
down  on  my  knees  and  said  my  prayers. 
Just  then  Christina  came  down  from  her 
room  ;  she  was  as  white  as  a  ghost,  and  was 
trembling  all  over.  Then  the  thunder  burst 
overhead  and  deafened  me — " 

"  Ah  !   then  you   noticed  that  she  was 
nervous  ?  " 


1 88  ROMA NTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

"  Certainly  !     And  so  was   I  ;    the  storm 

frightened  me  almost  to  death.     Shortly  after 

.this,  master  knocked  at  the  door,  and  Christina 

let  him  in.     Now,  Mijnheer,  this  is  all  I  know, 

as  sure  as  I  am  an  honest  woman." 

"  Don't  cry,  my  good  woman  ;  I  tell  you 
that  no  one  suspects  you." 

"  But  then,  master,  who  do  they  suspect  ? 
Merciful  Father  !  "  she  exclaimed  as  the 
truth  flashed  upon  her.  "  Then  they  accuse 
Christina  ?  " 

No  one  answered  her. 

"  Ah  !  "  continued  the  old  woman  ;  "  you 
do  not  answer  me  !  Master,  is  this  true  ?  " 

"  My  poor  Gudule  !  " 

"  Andjw*  let  them  accuse  little  Christina," 
continued  the  old  woman,  who  would  not  be  si- 
lenced. "  That  angel  of  kindness  and  love- 
liness sent  to  us  from  Heaven  !  " 

"  Come,  come,  if  it  is  not  you  it  must  be 
her,"  brutally  interrupted  Tricamp. 

"  Oh,  why  don't  they  blame  me  ?  I  am  an 
old  woman  and  have  not  long  to  live  ;  but  this 
child  is  innocent  and  I  won't  let  them  touch 
a  hair  of  her  head  !  Ah,  Mijnheer  Balthazar, 
do  not  let  them  touch  Christina,  she  is  a  sa- 
cred trust.  Don't  listen  to  that  bad  man — he 
is  the  cause  of  all  this  trouble  !  " 

M.  Tricamp  made  a  sign  to  his  men,  and 
they  seized  the  old  woman  by  the  arm.  Gudule 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  189 

advanced  a  few  steps,  then  fell  on  her  knees 
near  the  fireplace,  weeping  and  bemoaning 
her  fate.  M.  Tricamp  then  ordered  his  men 
not  to  disturb  the  woman  as  she  knelt  there 
offering  up  a  prayer  to  heaven  that  Christina 
should  not  suffer  for  a  crime  committed  by 
another. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  You  see,"  remarked  the  agent  of  police, 
turning  towards  Cornelius,  "  that  no  one  has 
called  here  whom  we  might  have  cause  to 
suspect — neither  the  postman,  the  neighbor, 
or  that  fellow  Petersen.  It  therefore  remains 
between  the  old  woman  and  the  young  girl ; 
and,  as  I  do  not  believe  the  old  one  is  suf- 
ficiently active  to  perform  gymnastics,  I  beg 
you  to  draw  your  own  conclusions." 

"  Oh,  do  not  ask  me  to  form  an  opinion  ; 
I  really  do  not  know  what  to  think  ;  it  seems 
as  if  it  were  all  a  frightful  nightmare  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  a  dream,  but 
it  strikes  me  that  I  am  pretty  wide  awake, 
and  that  I  reason  remarkably  well." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Cornelius,  pacing  nervously 
up  and  down  the  room,  "  you  reason  remarka- 
bly well  ! " 

"  And  my  suppositions  are  logical  enough." 

"  Yes,  yes,  very  logical." 


I 90  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

"  And  so  far  I  have  not  made  a  single  error. 
Therefore,  you  must  admit  that  the  young 
girl  is  guilty." 

"  Well  then,  no  !  "  eagerly  replied  Corne- 
lius, looking  the  sergeant  square  in  the  face.  " 
"  No  !  I  will  never  believe  her  guilty,  unless 
she  says  so  herself  !  And  God  knows — she 
might  declare  that  she  is  guilty,  and  yet  I 
wonld  protest  that  she  is  innocent !  " 

"  But,"  objected  the  sergeant,  "  what  proofs 
can  you  produce  ?  I,  at  least,  have  proven 
the  truth  of  my  assertions." 

"  Ah !  I  know  nothing,  I  can  prove  nothing," 
replied  Cornelius,"  and  everything  you  have 
said,  every  proof  you  have  produced,  is  not  to 
be  disputed — " 

"  Weil  then  ?  " 

"  But  my  conscience  revolts  against  your 
assertions  nevertheless,  and  something  seems 
to  cry  out : '  No,  no,  her  dear  face,  her  despair, 
her  agony,  are  not  those  of  a  guilty  wretch, 
and  I  swear  that  she  is  innocent !  I  can't 
prove  it — but  still  I  am  sure  of  it,  and  I  will 
asset  it  in  the  face  of  the  most  damaging  evi- 
dence !  Oh,  do  not  listen  to  her  accusers  ! 
They  will  lie  away  the  future  of  a  noble  girl  ! 
Their  logic  is  born  of  earthly  evidence — mine 
comes  direct  from  heaven,  and  is  therefore 
true  ! " 

"  Then—" 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  191 

"  Do  not  heed  them,"  continued  Cornelius, 
whose  excitement  was  now  intense  ;  "  and  re- 
member that  when  your  pride  is  ready  to  dis- 
pute the  existence  of  a  God,  something  within 
you  cries  out  to  affirm  that  He  does  exist! 
And  now  since  this  voice  proclaims  the  inno- 
cence of  the  girl,  how  could  I  suspect  her  ? " 

"  If  the  police  reasoned  like  that,  criminals 
would  have  an  easy  time  of  it." 

"  Oh,  I  will  not  attempt  to  convince  you," 
added  Cornelius  ;  "  continue  your  work  !  GO 
on  with  your  search  for  evidence,  and  pile 
your  proofs  one  upon  the  other  in  your  efforts 
to  crush  this  unfortunate  child  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  I  will  begin  my  search  to  discover  the 
proofs  of  her  innocence  !  " 

"  Then  I  would  advise  you  not  to  include 
this  among  the  latter." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  I  found  this  black  pearl — " 

"Where?" 

"  In  her  bureau  drawer." 

"  Yes,  my  friend,"  interrupted  Balthazar, 
"he  found  it  in  my  presence  in  her  drawer." 

Cornelius  eagerly  seized  the  pearl.  The 
proof  was  so  convincing  that  he  no  longer 
knew  what  to  believe.  The  miserable  little 
pearl  burned  his  hand  as  though  it  were  a 
red-hot  coal — he  looked  at  it  instinctively 
without  being  able  to  see  it — and  yet  he 


192  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

could  not  remove  his  eyes  from  this  bit  of 
damning  evidence  !  Balthazar  took  him  by 
the  hand,  but  Cornelius  did  not  appear  to 
notice  him.  He  never  removed  his  eyes  from 
the  pearl,  yet  the  sight  of  it  filled  him  with 
horror. 

"  Cornelius  !  "  exclaimed  Balthazar,  now 
thoroughly  alarmed  ;  but  Cornelius  pushed 
him  roughly  aside,  and  leaned  over  so  as  to 
obtain  a  better  view  of  the  pearl. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Cornelius  ? " 
Balthazar  asked  again. 

"  Get  out  of  my  way  ! "  and  he  once  more 
pushed  his  friend  aside  as  he  rushed  to  the 
open  window. 

Balthazar  and  Tricamp  exchanged  a  know- 
ing glance — while  Cornelius,  feverish  with 
excitement,  rushed  into  the  study. 

"  He  has  gone  mad  !  "  grumbled  M.  Tri- 
camp as  he  followed  him  with  his  eyes. 
"  Will  you  permit  me  to  give  a  drink  of  cura- 
coa  to  my  men  ?  It  is  daylight  now,  and  the 
air  is  somewhat  chilly." 

"  With  pleasure.  There  is  the  bottle ;  let 
the  men  help  themselves." 

Tricamp  then  left  the  room.  As  Balthazar 
turned  around,  he  perceived  old  Gudule  still 
kneeling  in  the  corner.  A  moment  later  he 
had  rejoined  Cornelius  in  the  study. 

Cornelius  was  examining  the  handle  of  the 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  193 

knife  with  the  greatest  attention.  This  scru- 
tiny lasted  several  minutes  ;  then,  without 
offering  a  word  of  explanation,  he  mounted  a 
chair  and  proceeded  to  examine  the  piece  of 
broken  wire. 

"Where  is  the  bell?"  he  suddenly  de- 
manded of  Balthazar,  who  really  believed 
that  his  friend  had  taken  leave  of  his  senses. 

"  In  the  hallway." 

Cornelius  pulled  the  wire  a  number  of 
times,  but  the  bell  did  not  ring. 

"  Ah  !  she  did  not  overlook  anything  ;  she 
has  removed  the  tongue  !  "  remarked  Bal- 
thazar with  a  sneer. 

Cornelius,  still  as  silent  as  a  sphinx,  con- 
tinued his  examination  of  the  wire  ;  it  passed 
through  a  little  tin  tube  about  the  size  of  a 
putty-blower  ;  the  wire  moved  freely  in  this 
groove,  therefore  there  was  nothing  out  of 
gear  in  that  direction. 

"  Now,  look  at  the  bell  and  tell  me  if  it 
rings  when  I  pull  the  wire." 

Balthazar  went  out  into  the  hall  and  did  as 
directed. 

"  Does  it  move  ?  "  called  out  Cornelius. 

"  Just  a  little,"  answered  Balthazar,  "  but 
it  can't  ring  because  the  bell  is  turned  upside 
down,  with  the  tongue  in  the  air." 

"  Good  !  We  will  look  into  that  later.  Now, 
steady  the  secretaire  while  I  get  up  there." 


1 94  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

Then,   with   the  assistance  of  the  knife, 

Cornelius  drew  himself  up  painfully  to  where 

-  the  paper  had  been  removed,  as  if  he  desired 

to  test  the  practicability  of  such  an  ascension. 

Just  then  Gudule  set  up  a  frightful  howl 
outside  ;  Balthazar  left  his  friend  in  mid-air 
while  he  ran  out  to  see  what  was  the 
matter. 

"  Oh,  master,"  she  cried  ;  "  she  has  just 
escaped  !  " 

"Christina?" 

"  Yes,  Mijnheer,  I  saw  her  as  she  fled 
through  the  garden.  Make  haste  and  follow 
her  before  it  is  too  late  !  " 

"  The  little  serpent  !  "  exclaimed  M.  Tri- 
camp  ;  "  she  was  playing  possum  then  after 
all.  Now  then,  my  lads,  let  me  see  how  soon 
you  will  catch  her." 

All  the  officers  started  off,  with  Tricamp  at 
their  head ;  while  Balthazar  ran  into  the 
young  girl's  room,  to  assure  himself  that  she 
was  no  longer  there. 

Instead  of  Christina,  Balthazar  was  con- 
fronted by  Cornelius,  who  had  entered  the 
room  through  the  opening  in  the  partition. 

"  That's  right  !  Look  for  her,  my  friend. 
You  must  now  admit  that  she  is  guilty,  as  she 
has  just  run  away." 

"  I  tell  you  that  she  is  innocent,"  exclaimed 
Cornelius  as  his  eyes  flashed  fire  ;  "  We  alone 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  195 

are  guilty — for  we  have  wrongfully  accused 
an  innocent  person  !  " 

"  You  must  be  mad  ! " 

"  You  will  not  say  so  after  I  have  proven 
to  you  that  I  know  the  name  of  the  thief," 
continued  Cornelius  as  he  smiled  sarcastically 
at  the  doubts  expressed  on  Balthazar's  coun- 
tenance. "  And  I  am  going  to  tell  you  how 
he  entered  and  how  he  went  out !  In  the 
first  place,  he  did  not  come  in  by  this  window, 
nor  by  that  opening  ;  he  simply  glided  down 
your  chimney,  and,  via  the  fireplace,  reached 
your  study." 

"  You  say  that  the  thief  entered  my  study 
by  the  chimney  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  And  as  he  is  celebrated  for 
his  weakness  for  metals,  his  first  move  was  to 
gather  your  gold  and  your  silver ;  then  he 
forced  the  steel  lock  of  your  portfolio  and  the 
iron  lock  of  your  secretaire,  and  gathering  to- 
gether your  florins,  your  ducats,  and  your 
jewels,  he  carried  them  off,  leaving  your  knife 
as  a  memento  of  his  little  visit.  From  the 
study,  he  jumped  into  the  room  of  this  unfor- 
tunate child,  dashing  through  the  woodwork 
and  paper  in  his  mad  flight,  and  dropping  the 
pearl  in  this  drawer  as  he  passed  through 
here. — And  if  you  want  to  know  what  has  be- 
come of  your  medallion,  look  ! " 

He  drew  aside  the  curtains  of  the  bed  and 


1 96  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

pointed  to  the  little  copper  crucifix  suspended 
on  the  wall,  and  which  was  now  completely 
gilded  in  melted  gold. 

*  "  This  is  what  he  did  with  your  medal- 
lion !  "— 

And,  plunging  his  hand  into  the  receptacle 
for  the  holy  water,  he  drew  out  the  glass  cov- 
ers of  the  medallion,  which  were  moulded 
together  with  the  flower  in  the  centre. 

"  And  this  is  what  he  did  with  the  rest !  " 

Balthazar  gazed  upon  his  friend  with  aston- 
ishment. He  did  not  know  what  to  expect 
next. 

"  And  now,  if  you  want  to  know  how  he 
went  out,"  continued  Cornelius  as  he  dragged 
him  to  the  window,  "  look  !  " 

He  pointed  to  the  top  pane  of  the  window, 
which  was  pierced  by  a  little  hole  about  the 
size  of  a  cent. 

"  But  what  does  all  this  mean  !  "  exclaimed 
Balthazar,  who  began  to  believe  that  he,  too, 
was  taking  leave  of  his  senses.  "  Who  did 
this  ? " 

"  Why,  you  fool  !  Can't  you  see  that  the 
house  has  been  struck  by  lightning  !  !  " 

Balthazar  might  have  been  struck  by  light- 
ning, too,  for  that  matter,  as  he  was  more 
dead  than  alive,  when  he  at  last  realized 
how  they  had  all  b<^en  deceived  by  the  hand 
of  Nature.  A  loud  noise  was  heard  outside. 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  197 

They  both  rushed  to  the  window  and  looked 
out. 

A  crowd  surrounded  the  house  as  four  offi- 
cers, carrying  a  stretcher,  on  which  Christina 
was  lying,  entered  the  front  door ! 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  poor  child  in  her  despair,  had  thrown 
herself  into  the  Amstel,  but  Petersen  the 
night-watchman,  like  the  brave  lad  that  he 
was,  had  sprung  into  the  water  and  pulled 
her  out. 

After  she  had  been  put  to  bed,  and  had  re- 
ceived a  visit  from  a  physician,  who  prescribed 
plenty  of  rest  and  quiet,  M.  Tricamp  ap- 
proached the  young  men. 

"  As  the  young  girl  is  not  in  a  condition  to 
be  removed  to-day,  my  men  and  I  will  retire." 

"  Why,  hasn't  Cornelius  told  you  ?  Chris- 
tina is  innocent  and  we  know  the  thief." 

"  The  thief !  "  exclaimed  M.  Tricamp, 
"  and  who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  lightning,  of  course  ! "  laugh- 
ingly replied  Balthazar. 

M.  Tricamp  opened  his  eyes  in  amazement, 
as  he  repeated: 

"  The  lightning  ?  " 

"  Why,  naturally!  "  replied  Cornelius;  "you 


1 98  ROMANTIC  LIBRAE  Y. 

apply  the  study  of  psychology  in  your  crimi- 
nal researches,  while  I  employ  my  knowledge 
of  meteorology — that's  the  only  difference  in 
our  methods." 

"  And  you  pretend  to  say  that  all  this  was 
caused  by  lightning  ? "  demanded  M.  Tri- 
camp,  who  was  losing  his  temper. 

"  Why,  all  this  is  as  nothing  when  compared 
with  some  of  the  capers  lightning  has  been 
known  to  cut.  How  about  the  tack  it  tears 
up  from  the  carpet  and  drives  through  a  mir- 
ror without  cracking  the  glass  ;  and  the  key 
it  takes  out  of  the  lock  and  conceals  in  the 
ice-box  ;  and  the  package  of  cigarettes  it  deli- 
cately removes  from  the  bronze  ash-receiver 
which  it  has  ignited  ;  and  the  silver  it  vola- 
tilizes through  the  silken  meshes  of  a  purse 
without  damaging  the  latter  ;  and  the  needles 
it  magnetizes  so  thoroughly  that  they  run  after 
a  hammer  ;  and  the  pretty  little  hole  it  made 
in  Christina's  window  ;  and  the  wall-paper  it  so 
deftly  disarranged  to  furnish  with  your  won- 
derful clue  ;  and  this  medallion,  the  glass  of 
which  it  melted  without  injuring  in  the  least 
the  flower  it  contained,  thus  forming  the  most 
beautiful  specimen  of  enamel  I  have  ever  seen, 
and  making  a  finer  wedding  gift  than  the  most 
skilled  artist  could  have  turned  out ;  and 
finally,  the  gold  of  the  medallion  which  gilded 
Christina's  crucifix  ! " 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  199 

"  Humbug  !  "  protested  M.  Tricamp,  "  it  is 
impossible  !  And  how  about  the  package  ! 
The  package  she  was  seen  to  hand  a  man 
from  out  the  window  ? " 

"  The  man  is  here  to  answer  that  question 
himself  !  " — and  a  perfect  colossus  entered 
the  room. 

"  Petersen  ! " 

"At  your  service.  And  the  package 
contained  some  old  dresses  for  my  little 
children." 

"  Old  clothes,  that's  excellent !  "  replied 
Tricamp,who  was  fairly  boiling  over  with  rage. 
"  But  how  about  the  gold,  and  the  silver,  the 
ducats  and  the  florins,  and  the  other  jewels  ; 
where  are  they  ? " 

"  Zounds  !  "  exclaimed  Cornelius,  striking 
his  forehead  ;  "  that  reminds  me — " 

He  sprang  on  the  table,  and  reaching  up  to 
the  overturned  bell,  he  suddenly  exclaimed  : 

"  Here  they  are  !  " 

A  huge  ingot  of  gold,  silver  and  jewels  fell 
on  the  floor  from  the  bell,  together  with  the 
tongue  of  the  bell,  which  had  been  detached, 
the  whole  being  melted  solidly  together. 

"  M.  Tricamp  picked  up  the  ingot  and  ex- 
amined it  carefully. 

"  But  tell  me,"  he  asked, "  what  put  you  on 
the  track  ? " 

"  Cornelius  smiled  as  he  replied  : 


200  ROMA N  TIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

"  This  black  pearl,  Mijnheer,  which  you 
handed  to  me,  defying  me  to  prove  Christina's 
Innocence  in  the  face  of  such  evidence." 

"  The  black  pearl !  " 

"  Exactly,  Mijnheer  !  Do  you  see  this  lit- 
tle white  speck  ?  Well,  that  was  caused  by 
electricity !  And,  thanks  to  this  little  speck, 
I  have  succeeded  in  saving  the  honor  of  a 
fellow-being." 

"You  must  accept  my  congratulations,"  said 
he,  bowing  humbly  ;  "  the  man  of  science  is 
more  far-sighted  than  the  police,  and  in 
future  I  intend  to  add  the  study  of  natural 
philosophy  and  meteorology  to  my  other 
acquirements.  Were  it  not  for  this  undoubt- 
ed proof  I  might  have  committed  a  still  more 
serious  error.  I  actually  began  to  suspect 
that  you  were  her  accomplice." 

And  then  M.  Tricamp  withdrew,  in  order 
not  to  show  his  embarrassment,  and  Gudule 
rushed  in  to  say  that  Christina  was  better  and 
had  heard  everything  through  the  partition. 

"  My  little  Christina,"  said  Balthazar  as  he 
knelt  by  her  bedstead  a  little  later,  "  if  you 
do  not  want  to  make  me  unhappy  pray  do 
not  refuse  to  accept  this  little  token  of  my 
esteem." 

And  he  placed  the  ingot  of  melted  gold 
and  jewels  on  the  bed. 

Christina  hesitated. 


THE  BLACK  PEARL.  201 

"  Oh,  you  must  take  it,  for  you  need  a 
dower — "  exclaimed  Balthazar  as  he  pressed 
her  hand. 

"  That  is  if,  you  will  accept  me  for  a  hus- 
band ? "  added  Cornelius. 

Christina  did  not  reply,  but  she  gave  the 
man  who  had  saved  her  honor  a  look  which 
certainly  did  not  mean — No. 


A   NOBLE   SACRIFICE. 


203 


A   NOBLE    SACRIFICE. 

BY   PAUL  FEVAL. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  chateau  of  Saint-Maugon  was  already 
very  old  in  the  seventeenth  century  ;  almost 
as  old,  in  fact,  as  the  noble  Mauguer  race, 
the  founders  of  which  swore  allegiance  to  the 
Riche  Due  without  uncovering  their  heads  in 
his  presence.  But  now  La  Marche,  Porhoet 
and  Mauguer  are  dead  ;  the  ducal  throne  of 
Brittany  no  longer  exists  since  centuries,  and 
still  the  chateau  of  Saint-Maugon,  with  its 
five  lofty  towers,  stands  on  the  summit  of 
Ernec-le-Vicomte,  three  leagues  from  the 
good  city  of  Rennes.  Its  turrets  still  over- 
looked the  plain  as  in  the  time  when  those 
who  inhabited  the  lowlands,  from  Chatillon 
to  Saint-Hellier,  obeyed  Mauguer. 

The  traveller  halts  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  and  gazes  upwards  at  this  huge 
pile  of  masonry,  whose  turrets  seem  to 
205 


206  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY, 

reach  the  very  skies.  He  stops  for  a  moment 
and  uncovers  his  head  at  the  sight  of  this 
-grand  old  edifice,  a  monument  of  a  by-gone 
age.  Ten  centuries  have  passed  since  its 
corner-stone  was  laid  :  centuries  in  which 
its  occupants  have  seen  that  glorious  and 
golden  age,  the  days  of  sincerity,  valor  and 
chivalry  ;  and  the  age  of  bronze  when  brave 
men  cast  aside  their  armor  to  don  silk  attire  ; 
and  the  age  of  iron  when  it  was  customary 
to  chop  off  the  heads  of  kings  ;  and,  finally, 
the  age  which  deals  only  in  deceit,  corrup- 
tion, treason  and  perjury — the  age  of  lead  of 
the  present  time ! 

Two  avenues  lead  from  the  plain  to  the 
chateau  Saint-Maugon.  The  incline  of  one 
of  these  roads  is  not  at  all  perceptible  until 
it  reaches  the  southern  arch  ;  while  the  other, 
leading  to  Rennes,  follows  the  abrupt  and 
steep  ramparts.  These  two  avenues  are  only 
discernible  now  by  their  sloping  talus.  The 
brush  and  the  underwood  have  grown  over 
the  wide  roads,  but  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
when  the  Mauguers  of  Saint-Maugon  were 
prominent  factors  in  the  affairs  of  state  of 
Brittany,  a  quadruple  row  of  noble  oaks  bor- 
dered each  side  of  the  road. 

On  an  afternoon  in  the  winter  of  1683,  two 
cavaliers  entered  the  park  almost  simulta- 
neously. One  followed  the  road  which  led  to 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  207 

the  southern  arch,  while  the  other  was  on 
the  Rennes  road.  They  were  both  young 
and  handsome,  and  they  wore  the  white  uni- 
form, faced  with  silver,  which  denoted  the 
officers  of  the  regiment  of  the  Crown.  The 
one  who  was  coming  from  Rennes  was 
mounted  on  a  superb  animal  which  he 
handled  with  admirable  grace.  He  appeared 
to  be  about  two  and  twenty,  and  his  noble 
features  were  both  firm  and  gentle  in  their 
expression.  From  beneath  his  plumed  cap 
a  mass  of  jet-black  ringlets  escaped,  fairly 
reaching  down  to  the  captain's  epaulettes  he 
wore. 

The  other  cavalier  was  even  younger.  He 
had  evidently  come  a  long  distance,  as  his 
mount  was  jaded  and  covered  with  mud  up 
the  quarters.  Although  he  greatly  resembled 
the  captain,  still  his  features  were  finer  and 
more  delicate,  while  there  was  less  firmness 
and  more  passion  in  his  regard.  This  hand- 
some youth  had  a  growth  of  luxuriant  blond 
hair  which  might  have  been  the  envy  of  many 
an  officer,  although  he  only  sported  an 
ensign's  galon  on  his  coat-sleeve. 

He  urged  his  horse  on  furiously,  although 
the  poor  beast  had  long  since  become  dead 
beat,  and  he  appeared  to  be  in  a  great  haste 
to  reach  the  chateau  in  advance  of  the  other 
cavalier.  In  spite,  of  his  exertions,  however, 


208  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

he  reached  there  a  minute  or  two  after  the 
other  rider  had  dismounted. 
•  As  soon  as  they  caught  sight  of  one  an- 
other they  gave  a  shout  of  joy,  and  in 
another  moment  they  were  clasped  fondly  in 
each  other's  arms. 

"  Roger  ! "  exclaimed  the  captain  as  he 
tenderly  kissed  the  ensign. 

"  Monsieur  mon  frtre  !  "  replied  the  latter 
with  a  touch  of  respect  in  his  manner. 

"  Nonsense,  Roger  !  That's  all  very  well 
in  the  regiment  or  in  public ;  but,  when  we 
are  alone,  man  to  man  and  brother  to 
brother — call  me  Bertrand  !  " 

The  young  officers  then  entered  the  court- 
yard together.  They  were  MM.  de  Saint- 
Maugon,  sons  of  Chevalier  Herve  Mauguer 
de  Saint-Maugon,  baron  of  Kerhuan,  who 
died  a  field  marshal  of  France.  They  had 
not  seen  each  other  during  the  past  six 
months.  During  this  time  Roger  had  been 
stationed  at  Nantes  on  garrison  duty,  while 
Bertrand's  regiment  was  quartered  at  Rennes. 
This  was  the  first  time  they  had  even  been 
separated  before,  and  they  loved  each  other 
as  only  brothers  can  love  when  they  are  all 
the  world  to  each  other. 

"  Gracious,  how  you  have  grown,  Roger  !" 
remarked  Bertrand  as  they  wended  their 
way  through  the  long  corridors  of  Saint- 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  209 

Maugon.  "  You  are  as  tall  and  strong  as 
a  man." 

Roger  stroked  the  few  stray  hairs  which 
were  beginning  to  make  their  appearance  on 
his  upper  lip. 

Why,  I  am  a  soldier,  Bertrand,"  he  replied, 
"  and  all  soldiers  should  be  manly  and  strong. 
But  you  are  as  brown  as  a  berry,  and  how 
gracefully  you  curl  your  moustache  !  By  my 
faith,  I'll  wager  there's  not  another  officer  in 
the  King's  regiment  who  can  compare  with 
you  in  good  looks  !  " 

And  Roger  gazed  admiringly  at  his  bro- 
ther. The  captain  smiled  as  he  passed  his 
hand  tenderly  through  the  ensign's  blond  hair. 

They  now  reached  the  reception  room  in 
which  Herve  Mauguer  formerly  received  his 
guests.  They  uncovered  themselves  before 
their  father's  portrait,  while  they  both  whis- 
pered an  Ave  for  the  repose  of  the  lady  of 
Saint-Maugon,  who  seemed  to  smile  upon 
them  fondly  from  her  gilded  frame.  Then 
they  seated  themselves,  side  by  side,  beneath 
a  trophy  of  arms,  surmounted  with  the  Saint- 
Mauguer  coat-of-arms. 

"  Six  months,  brother  !  It  seems  an  age," 
began  Roger.  "  And  if  M.  de  Gadague,  our 
colonel,  had  not  recalled  me  to  Rennes,  I 
really  believe  I  should  have  been  tempted  to 
desert  my  post  in  order  to  pay  you  a  visit." 


2 1  o  ROMA  N  TIC  L IBRA  R  K 

"  You  are  as  wild  as  ever,  I  see.  Now, 
tell  me,  what  have  you  done  during  all  this 
time  ? " 

"  Lots  of  things,  brother.  They  have  gay 
times  in  Nantes,  you  know,  and  the  young 
noblemen  of  that  town  handle  their  swords 
tolerably  well — " 

"  You  surely  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that 
you  have  been  fighting  !  "  interrupted  Ber- 
trand. 

"  What  a  question  to  ask  me  !  I  am  almost 
nineteen." 

"  And  with  whom  have  you  crossed 
swords  ? " 

"  How  can  I  tell — I  don't  remember  !  Why, 
with  this  one  and  that  one,  of  course  ;  I  am 
alway  ready  to  accommodate  those  who  are 
anxious  to  test  their  skill  against  mine.  But 
come,  let  us  change  the  subject  !  " 

There  was  certainly  a  strange  contrast  in 
Bertrand's  solicitude  and  Roger's  indiffer- 
ence. 

"As  you  say,  let  us  drop  the  subject,"  said 
the  elder  Saint-Maugon.  "  It  is  evident  that 
we  will  never  agree  on  this  question.  I  don't 
fancy  these  combats,  where  two  good  servitors 
of  the  King  permit  themselves  to  be  killed 
for  mere  pleasure,  just  as  one  would  dance 
the  minuet." 

"  It  is  the  duty  of  all  noblemen." 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE  21 1 

"  It  is  the  hobby  of  a  maniac,  when  it  is 
not  the  weakness  of  a  lad.  I,  too,  have 
crossed  swords,  Roger  ;  but  it  was  with  a 
heavy  heart,  I  assure  you." 

"  You  are  severe,  monsieur  mon/tire"  said 
Roger  reproachfully. 

"  Pardon  me,  I  should  have  withheld  those 
words.  But  I  do  love  you  so,  Roger  !  " 

The  latter  smiled  as  he  pressed  Bertrand's 
hand  against  his  heart. 

"  Brother,"  said  he  in  a  caressing  tone, 
"  the  next  time  I  have  an  affair  of  honor  I 
will  call  on  you  for  advice,  and,  since  you  do 
not  care  to  discuss  my  duels,  let  us  talk  of 
love." 

"  Already  !  "  exclaimed  Bertrand. 

"lam  nearly  nineteen,"  repeated  Roger, 
with  a  comical  expression. 

"  Very  good.     And  may  I  ask  who  it  is  ? " 

"  I  could  never  think  of  such  a  thing  ! 
Besides,  I  know  the  code  of  honor  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  my  dear  captain,  so  it 
is  now  my  turn  to  be  severe.  Fie  !  I  am 
ashamed  of  you  !  How  curious  you  are,  to 
be  sure  !  " 

"  You  are  right.  A  man  of  honor  should 
never  divulge  the  name  of  the  woman  he 
loves.  I,  too — " 

"  Are  you  also  in  love  ? "  interrupted  Roger 
with  a  laugh. 


212  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

Bertrand  nodded  his  head  affirmatively. 

"  So  much  the  better  !  "  exclaimed  Roger, 
'.'  for  now,  at  least,  we  will  agree.  But  you 
must  not  misjudge  me,  brother,  for  I  love 
honestly  and  sincerely,  and  not  lightly,  as  you 
suppose." 

"  That's  a  pity  !  "  involuntarily  remarked 
the  captain. 

"  Why  ?     She  is  wealthy,  beautiful — " 

"  And  does  she  love  you  ? " 

"  I  believe  so.  She  knows  that  I  worship 
her,  and  that  I  am  hers,  body  and  soul.  I 
have  frequently  read  a  confession  in  her 
smile — " 

"Woman's  smiles  are  not  to  be  trusted, 
Roger." 

The  ensign  became  pensive  ;  then  he  as- 
sumed a  patronizing  air  : 

"  Can  it  be  that  you  are  unfortunate  in 
love  ? " 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Bertrand. 

"  Because  from  your  manner  I  thought — 
but  I  must  be  mad  !  The  woman  whom  you 
love  must  be  proud  indeed.  She  of  all  others 
should  be  happy." 

"  If  that  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  make 
her  happy  she  will  indeed  be  the  happiest 
woman  in  France,  for  I  love  her,  Roger,  with 
all  my  heart." 

"It  is  thus  that  I  love,  brother." 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  213 

"  I  love  her  as  woman  was  never  loved  be- 
fore— she  is  so  beautiful !  " 

"  Oh  !  not  a  bit  prettier  than  mine,  I  war- 
rant you,"  eagerly  interrupted  Roger. 

"  She  is  prettier  than  any  living  woman, 
brother.  Ah  !  if  you  could  but  see  her  ! " 

"  And  if  you  could  only  see  mine  !  " 

"  Have  I  not  seen  all  the  beauties  for 
which  Rennes  is  noted  ?  She  shines  like  a 
gem  among  her  companions." 

Roger  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  Nantes  is  a  much  larger  town  than 
Rennes,"  he  protested,  "and  the  one  I  love 
is  the  pearl  of  Nantes." 

"  While  Rennes  is  the  centre  of  the  nobil- 
ity," responded  Bertrand,  who  was  now  fully 
as  indignant  as  his  brother.  "  Who  but  a 
lovesick  youth  would  have  the  audacity  to 
compare  the  shopkeepers  of  Nantes  with  the 
noble  ladies  who  are  followers  of  the 
States  ! " 

"  But  she  is  a  follower  of  the  States  !  "  ex- 
claimed Roger  with  rage ;  "  noble  blood 
courses  through  her  veins,  and,  by  Heaven — 
were  you  not  my  brother — " 

And  his  hand  instinctively  sought  the  hilt 
of  his  sword, — then,  ashamed  of  this  sudden 
outburst  of  passion,  he  buried  his  face  in  the 
captain's  bosom.  The  latter  had  now  re- 
sumed all  his  sang-froid. 


2 1 4  ROMA  KTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

"  What  a  child  you  are,  to  be  sure  !  "  he 
murmured  as  he  drew  Roger  close  to  him  ; 
"  'tis  I  who  am  in  the  wrong,  or  rather  we 
have  both  committed  an  indiscretion.  They 
must  both  be  beautiful — since  we  love  them 
so  devotedly." 

Roger  arose  and  returned  Bertrand's  em- 
brace, but  traces  of  his  ill-humor  still  lin- 
gered around  the  graceful  curves  of  his 
mouth. 

"  You  must  see  her  !  "  he  continued.  "  I 
want  you  to  ask  my  forgiveness,  and,  like  a 
chevalier  who  has  been  unhorsed  in  battle, 
you  must  declare  yourself  defeated." 

"  If  it  will  please  you,  I  am  willing  to  ad- 
mit anything  you  wish." 

"  Not  at  all !  You  must  judge  for  your- 
self." 

"  But,"  objected  Bertrand,  "  Nantes  is  a 
long  distance  from  here." 

"  She  is  no  longer  at  Nantes  but  at  Rennes  ; 
and  the  next  time  one  of  the  followers  of  the 
States  gives  a  reception — " 

"  There  is  a  ball  to-night  at  the  hotel  of 
M.  le  Marquis  de  Poulpry,  Lieutenant  to  the 
King,"  interrupted  Bertrand. 

"  Then  I  have  the  honor  to  formally  chal- 
lenge you,  brother,  and  the  question  will  be 
decided  this  very  night.  Ah  !  my  dear  cap- 
tain, love  does  not  concede  the  rights  of  su- 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  215 

periority  of  an  elder  brother,  and  I  predict 
that  you  will  meet  with  a  sorry  defeat  !  " 

"  We  shall  see  !  "  replied  Bertrand,  smil- 
ing, although  his  pride  had  been  sadly 
wounded.  "  I  accept  your  challenge,  and 
with  the  grace  of  God  and  the  King's  pleas- 
ure, may  the  best  man  win  !  " 

A  few  hours  later,  and  just  as  the  shades 
of  night  were  falling,  MM.  de  Saint- Maugon, 
concealing  their  bright  uniforms  beneath 
their  long  mantles,  vaulted  into  the  saddle 
and  galloped  out  of  the  court-yard  of  the 
chateau.  Six  gentlemen  of  the  horse,  wear- 
ing the  de  Maugon  livery,  and  four  armed 
lackeys  brought  up  the  rear.  In  these  days 
this  was  considered  an  almost  royal  escort: 
but,  a  hundred  years  before,  no  less  than  fifty 
sword-bearers  would  have  formed  a  suitable 
escort  for  the  first-born  of  the  Saint-Maugons. 

The  two  brothers,  impatient  to  forever  set 
at  rest  this  all-important  question,  sank  the 
rowels  of  their  spurs  deep  into  their  horses' 
flanks,  and  soon  left  both  equerries  and  val- 
ets far  behind.  All  along  the  road,  Roger 
chanted  his  victory,  and  tantalized  his  bro- 
ther with  satirical,  although  perfectly  innocent 
remarks.  The  captain  let  him  have  his  own 
way,  confident  that  he  would  triumph  before 
long. 

They  drew  rein  before  the  gates  of  Rennes, 


2 1 6  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

and  then  the  shelly  pavements  emitted  sparks 
of  fire  beneath  their  horses'  hoofs,  as  they 
again  dashed  off  at  breakneck  speed.  After 
a  half-hour's  mad  gallop  through  the  narrow 
and  winding  streets  of  the  old  city,  they  fin- 
ally caught  a  glimpse  of  the  sky  which,  up  to 
that  moment,  had  been  concealed  by  the 
towering  gables  of  the  houses.  They  entered 
the  Place  du  Palais.  To  the  right,  an  edi- 
fice of  noble  architecture  presented  a  brilliant 
facade,  all  the  windows  being  illuminated. 
This  was  the  the  residence  of  the  King's 
Lieutenant. 

MM.  de  Saint-Maugon  threw  their  bridles 
to  the  lackeys  who  were  drawn  up  in  line 
before  the  entrance,  and  ascended  the  grand 
stairway. 

The  lackeys  announced  them  ;  then  they 
made  their  entree  in  the  brilliantly  lighted 
salon. 

The  rooms  were  crowded  to  their  utmost 
capacity,  and  the  halls  were  fairly  jammed. 
A  double  row  of  women  were  grouped  pict- 
uresquely around  the  statuary  and  the  arti- 
cles de  vertu.  It  was  a  scene  never  to  be  for- 
gotten— a  panorama  of  flowers,  pearls  and 
old  lace.  Diamonds  sparkled  ;  the  velvet 
doublets  of  the  men  contrasted  harmoniously 
with  the  fur-trimmed  corsages  of  the  women  ; 
the  sword-hilts  scintillated,  and  the  brilliants 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  217 

of  the  clasps  shone  brightly  in  the  light,  while 
the  sachets  of  the  courtiers  undulated  gen- 
tly in  the  perfumed  breeze  raised  by  hundreds 
of  gorgeous  fans. 

The  enchanted  eye  delighted  to  feast  on 
this  magnificent  spectacle,  and  when  the  vio- 
lins struck  up  the  overture  of  the  minuet  then 
in  vogue,  composed  by  Lulli,  the  spectator 
forgot  all  earthly  matters,  and,  for  the  time 
being,  imagined  himself  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

Bertrand  and  Roger  made  a  tour  of  the 
rooms,  searching  here,  there,  and  everywhere 
for  the  ones  they  loved,  but  they  failed  to 
meet  with  a  reward  for  their  trouble. 

"  Welcome  to  Monsieur  le  Baron  de  Ker- 
huan,"  said  the  young  officers  of  the  King's 
regiment,  as  Bertrand  wended  his  way  through 
the  crowd. 

He  bowed  distractedly  as  he  continued  his 
search. 

As  for  Roger,  he  had  no  title,  and  his  com- 
panions only  greeted  him  with  a  familiar 
"  Good-evening,  Saint-Maugon." 

The  two  brothers  had  now  visited  every 
nook  and  corner  of  the  vast  edifice. 

"  She  is  not  here  !  "  said  Bertrand. 

"  She  is  not  here  !  "  repeated  Roger. 

"  Brother,"  continued  the  elder  Saint- 
Maugon,  "  we  will  have  to  declare  our  bet 
off." 


2 1 8  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

An  usher  raised  the  tapestry  of  the  main 
salon. 

.     "  Ah  !  it  may  be  she  !  "  exclaimed  Roger, 
on  the  gut  vive. 

"  M.  le  President  de  Montme'ril  ! "  an- 
nounced the  lackeys. 

Both  the  captain  and  the  ensign  were  trem- 
bling with  excitement. 

An  old  man,  wearing  the  costume  of  a 
president  of  the  Parliament  of  Brittany, 
crossed  the  threshold.  A  young  woman  of 
extraordinary  beauty  was  leaning  on  his 
arm. 

"  See  !  There  she  is  !  "  exclaimed  the 
two  officers  simultaneously  with  a  cry  of 
triumph. 

This  revelation  acted  like  a  thunderbolt. 
The  two  brothers  looked  at  one  another  in 
astonishment.  Bertrand  became  livid,  but 
there  was  nothing  but  sorrow  in  his  regard, 
while  Roger's  eyes  shot  forth  a  glance  of 
rage. 

"  And  you  say  she  loves  you  !  "  he  mur- 
mured. 

Bertrand  did  not  reply.  Roger  seized  him 
roughly  by  the  arm.  Then  two  tears  coursed 
down  his  cheeks,  and  closing  his  eyes  to  shut 
out  the  scene,  he  fell  backward,  in  a  dead 
faint,  in  Bertrand's  arms. 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  219 


CHAPTER  II. 

M.  LE  MARQUIS  DE  POULPRY'S  servants 
announced  many  an  illustrious  personage  that 
night.  Outside  of  the  seigneurs  holding 
royal  commissions,  such  as  M.  de  Vendome, 
Governor  of  Brittany  ;  M.  de  Pontchartrain, 
collector  of  taxes  ;  Coetlogon,  flag-officer  of 
the  royal  squadron,  and  many  others,  all  the 
great  houses  of  Brittany  were  represented  on 
this  occasion.  Rohan  chatted  with  Gou- 
laine,  Rieux  and  la  Cheviere  walked  together 
arm  in  arm  ;  Penhoet  shook  hands  with  Com- 
bourg.  It  would  have  been  necessary  to 
make  a  journey  to  Versailles,  to  find  another 
such  noble  assemblage. 

The  arrival  of  the  president  and  his  daugh- 
ter caused  a  commotion,  not  only  for  MM.  de 
Saint-Maugon,  but  for  the  rest  of  those  pres- 
ent as  well.  M.  de  Montme'ril,  the  doyen  of 
the  presidents  of  the  parliaments  of  Brittany, 
was  strongly  suspected  of  bad  faith  toward 
his  Majesty's*  government.  He  incited  that 
feeling  of  opposition  in  the  States  which  re- 
pulsed the  royal  collector  of  taxes,  on  the 
ground  that  the  provinces  had  a  right  to  ad- 
minister their  own  revenues.  Outside  of  the 
States,  his  role  was  none  the  less  active,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  they  claimed  he  was  far  more 


2 20  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y, 

criminal,  and  many  affirmed  that  he  was  a 
partisan  of  that  inoffensive  though  obstinate 
revolt  on  the  part  of  the  peasants  of  upper 
Brittany,  who  demanded  nothing  less  than 
that  the  compact  of  friendship  existing  be- 
tween the  King  and  the  Duchesse  Anne  be 
annulled.  Madame  de  Sevigne",  in  her  let- 
ters, treats  this  insurrection  with  severity  ; 
while  the  historians  hardly  mention  it  at  all, 
and  do  not  even  trouble  themselves  with  dis- 
cussing the  legitimacy  of  its  motives.  This 
does  not  surprise  us  in  the  least,  seeing  that 
the  insurgents  were  defeated. 

But  Ireland  was  also  conquered.  With  the 
grace  of  God,  may  a  like  comparison  never  be 
drawn  between  the  treatment  of  the  Irish  by 
the  English,  and  the  treatment  of  the  Bretons 
by  the  French  !  France  made  every  Breton 
a  Frenchman,  while  England,  that  gigantic 
mart  which  is  ever  ready  to  traffic  and  barter 
the  blood  and  sweat  of  its  sons,only  conquered 
Ireland  so  as  to  bleed  her  people.  Besides, 
the  Bretons  were  a  race  of  men,  and  it  is 
easily  understood  that  among  such  a  race  it 
is  only  natural  that  there  should  be  some  dis- 
senting spirits  to  find  fault  with  a  woman  for 
assuming  the  right  to  alienate  their  nation- 
ality, so  as  to  secure  a  rich  dower  for  another 
country. 

The  revolt  of  which  we  speak  was  caused, 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  221 

no  doubt,  by  the  resistance  of  the  States  to 
the  will  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  was  frequently  a 
source  of  great  annoyance  to  his  Majesty  as 
well  as  to  his  ministers.  In  1683,  they  ex- 
perienced a  sudden  recrudescence,  and  a  few 
days  previous  to  the  ball  given  by  the  Mar- 
quis de  Poulpry,  a  pitched  battle  had  taken 
place  only  a  few  leagues  from  Rennes.  The 
peasants  had  been  dispersed,  leaving  some 
hundred  odd  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the 
royalists  ;  but  they  had  threatened  to  return, 
and  God  knows  they  always  kept  their  word 
— the  Bretons  never  make  an  idle  boast. 
The  prisoners  had  been  incarcerated  in 
the  old  ducal  chateau  of  Tour-le-Bat,  and 
a  sharp  watch  was  kept  outside  the  city 
gates. 

It  would  therefore  seem  the  height  of 
audacity  on  the  part  of  M.  de  Montmeril, 
suspected  as  he  was  of  connivance  with  the 
rebels,  to  thus  brave  the  representative  of  the 
King  in  his  own  house.  Therefore,  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  name  caused  a  general  stir 
among  those  who  attended  the  reception  that 
night.  All  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  new  ar- 
rivals. He  was  an  old  man  of  gigantic  stature 
and  severe  physiognomy,  denoting  a  strong 
character  and  an  inflexible  will.  He  apparently 
did  not  heed  the  attention  he  was  attracting, 
for  he  walked  up  to  the  Marquis  de  Poulpry 


222  ROMA  N  TIC  LIBRA  R  Y. 

and  saluted  him  with  dignity.  Then  he 
mingled  among  the  guests. 

As  to  Mademoiselle  de  Montmeril,  she 
created  no  little  stir.  The  sight  of  her  filled 
the  breasts  of  the  other  women  with  spite 
and  envy  ;  while  the  men  experienced  an 
altogether  different  feeling.  Bertrand  and 
Roger  were  both  right  :  she  was  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  Brittany  ! 

She  was  just  eighteen  :  her  every  action 
denoted  grace  and  pride.  Her  noble  brow 
was  framed  in  a  cluster  of  golden  ringlets, 
which  fell  gracefully  about  her  white  shoul- 
ders. Her  eyes,  which  were  of  a  dark  blue, 
seemed  to  reflect  her  every  thought,  while  a 
sweet  smile  lingered  about  her  ruby  lips,  and 
the  perfect  symmetry  of  her  features  seemed 
to  have  been  modelled  after  the  paintings  of 
those  old  Italian  masters  who  see  the  Holy 
Virgin  and  the  angels  in  the  ecstacy  of  their 
genius.  All  was  grand  and  noble  in  this 
beautiful  woman  ;  even  her  name  had  a 
touch  of  royalty  about  it  :  she  was  called 
Reine. 

Roger  had  seen  her  at  Nantes,  where  M. 
de  Montme'ril  was  called  during  the  early 
part  of  the  winter  to  listen  to  the  appeals  of 
Clisson.  The  younger  de  Saint-Maugon  was 
ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  being 
wild  and  foolish  like  most  young  scions  of 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  223 

la  vielle  noblesse,  was  seized  with  one  of  those 
sudden  and  startling  passions  which  kindle 
rapidly  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  have 
nothing  to  occupy  their  minds.  His  love  for 
Reine  knew  no  bounds  ;  this  passion  was 
stronger  than  his  timidity,  he  uttered  tender 
words  of  love  and  was  not  repulsed. 

Who  can  tell  where  levity  ceases,  and 
coqueiterie  begins  in  woman  ?  Reine  listened 
to  Roger.  He  was  a  handsome  youth,  and 
he  loved  her  so  !  But  when  Reine  left  Nantes 
to  return  to  the  capital  of  Brittany  she  did  so 
without  any  great  compunction. 

While  Roger  was  breaking  his  heart  over 
her,  Mile,  de  Montme'ril,  to  tell  the  truth, 
only  gave  him  a  passing  thought,  and  this  is 
how  it  come  about  :  she  met  Bertrand  de 
Saint-Maugon  at  Rennes  ;  he  resembled  his 
brother  as  a  trusty  sword  resembles  a  fancy 
rapier.  And  as  she  made  this  comparison, 
Reine  suddenly  remembered  Roger.  And, 
unfortunately,  the  comparison  did  not  flatter 
the  younger  brother.  Bertrand  Mauguer  de 
Saint-Maugon,  Baron  de  Kerhuan,  captain  of 
the  King's  regiment,  was  entitled  to  carry  a 
sword,  and  he  had  succeeded  to  the  vast 
estates  of  the  Mauguers  ;  Roger,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  only  permitted  to  carry  a  sword 
when  on  duty  ;  at  other  times,  he  carried  the 
cane  used  by  the  ensigns  at  this  period. 


224  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

This  difference  in  station  did  not  worry 
Mile,  de  Montmeril  in  the  least,  but  she  had 
a  father,  and  he  had  considerable  to  say  in 
the  matter.  Besides,  Bertrand,  although  a 
valiant  soldier  and  accomplished  cavalier,  was 
not  Roger,  inferior  as  far  as  good  looks  were 
concerned,  and,  when  it  came  to  a  question 
of  intelligence  and  sagacity  he  was  decidedly 
his  superior.  Reine  realized  that  at  first 
sight.  Who  knows  ?  Poor  Roger  may  have 
paved  the  way  to  the  beautiful  girl's  heart, 
but  it  was  Bertrand  who  passed  over  this 
road.  In  him,  Reine  no  doubt  beheld  another 
Roger,  only  that  he  was  more  perfect  and 
more  worthy  of  her  love. 

Mile,  de  Montmeril  was  one  of  those  girls 
who  engross  the  attention  and  monopolize 
the  homage  of  man. 

Bertrand,  just  the  opposite  from  Roger, 
attempted  to  resist  the  attraction  which  drew 
him  instinctively  towards  her.  He  knew 
that  he  was  strong  ;  he  had  confidence  in  him- 
self, but  his  strength  betrayed  him  in  the  end. 
And  the  more  he  resisted,  the  deeper  Cupid's 
shaft  penetrated  his  heart.  Bertrand  loved 
her  as  only  men  of  noble  instincts  can  love — 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  father,  the  adoration 
of  a  servitor,  and  the  devotion  of  a  lover. 

As  we  said  before,  the  discovery  that  they 
loved  the  same  woman,  and  were  there- 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  225 

fore  rivals,  was  a  terrible  shock  to  both. 
Roger  was  struck  as  if  with  a  knife,  full  in  the 
heart ;  a  world  of  distressing  thoughts  filled 
his  mind  ;  he  was  young,  and  he  succumbed 
beneath  the  weight  of  this  fatality.  Ber- 
trand's  anguish  was  still  more  painful,  but  he 
stood  the  shock  bravely.  Men  like  him  fall 
but  once — and  then  it  is  to  die  ! 

His  brother  lay  there,  on  a  lounge,  pale  as 
death,  and  without  movement.  But  a  few 
feet  away,  Mile,  de  Montmeril,  surrounded 
with  a  bevy  of  admirers,  was  bestowing  her 
smiles  right  and  left.  Her  gaze  met  that 
of  Bertrand,  and  her  smile  instantly  vanished. 
Her  eyes  seemed  to  express  something  more 
than  mere  pleasure,  and  her  admirers  were 
wild  with  envy.  Bertrand  placed  his  hand 
over  his  heart,  which  was  beating  like  a  trip- 
hammer beneath  his  uniform  ;  then,  instead 
of  obeying  the  smile  which  was  a  summons 
for  him  to  join  her,  he  bowed  politely  and 
retreated  towards  the  door. 

He  was  but  a  son  of  Adam  after  all.  Be- 
fore crossing  the  threshold  he  turned  round. 
Reine's  glance,  piercing  the  crowd,  reached 
him  even  there,  and  seemed  to  question  this 
retreat. 

"  May  God  have  mercy  !  "  murmured  Ber- 
trand, as  he  made  a  step  towards  the  young 
girl. 


226  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

Then  his  eye  fell  upon  Roger's  pale  brow  ; 
he  thrust  aside  all  selfish  motives,  and,  sud- 
denly raising  the  portiere,  he  disappeared. 

"What  ails  the  Baron  de  Kerhuan  to- 
night ?  "  queried  young  M.  de  Kercornbec  of 
his  vis-a-vis,  Mile,  de  Quimper. 

"Oh,  happiness  has  turned  his  brain,"  in- 
terrupted the  younger  de  Tregaz,  with  the 
peculiar  accent  of  those  who  hail  from 
Nantes. 

"  The  truth  is,"  exclaimed  M.  de  Chateau- 
trubel,  a  big  red-faced,  whole-souled  fellow, 
who  spoke  through  his  nose  as  becomes  a 
true  native  of  Rennes  ;  "  the  truth  is,  that  the 
little  baron  is  the  luckiest  officer  in  the  whole 
army." 

Then  the  inhabitants  of  Vitre",  of  Vannes, 
of  Saint-Brieuc  and  Saint-Malo  had  their  lit- 
tle say.  At  Vitre,  they  swell  their  words  ;  at 
Vannes,  the  words  slip  through  their  thick 
lips  like  honey  ;  at  Saint-Brieuc,  they  mum- 
ble their  words  to  a  peculiar  cadence  ;  and  at 
Saint-Malo — but,  taking  all  in  all,  where  do 
you  find  those  who  speak  correctly  ?  Is  the 
genuine  French  accent  that  noisy  prattle  we 
hear  across  the  Garonne  ?  or,  is  it  rather  the 
gentle  chuckle  of  Picardy  ?  the  monotonous 
chant  of  Normandy  ?  or  the  shrill  and  squeaky 
falsetto  of  the  Parisian  ? 

Reine  heeded  not  this  idle  gossip,  which 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  227 

did  not  interest  her  in  the  least.  Her  eyes 
were  fastened  on  the  door  through  which 
Bertrand  had  just  disappeared. 

"  Can  it  be  that  he  no  longer  loves  me  !  " 
she  murmured. 

And  she  turned  away  to  brush  aside  a  tear. 

But  woman  is  fickle:  ten  minutes  later  she 
was  dancing  with  one  of  her  admirers. 

When  Roger  finally  shook  off  the  feeling 
of  despair  which  oppressed  him,  he  cast  his 
eyes  around  the  room. 

It  was  between  two  minuets.  Numerous 
couples  were  promenading  up  and  down. 
Suddenly  he  recognized  Mile,  de  Montmeril's 
voice  above  the  rest,  and  the  sound  of  her 
silvery  laugh  sent  the  hot  blood  coursing 
through  his  veins.  Then  he  remembered 
what  had  taken  place,  and  he  fairly  trembled 
with  rage. 

"  He  loves  her  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Ber- 
trand !  my  brother — my  own  brother  robs  me 
of  my  happiness  !" 

His  head  was  bursting. 

"  My  brother  !  "  he  repeated  with  increased 
fury.  "  Why  was  he  not  satisfied  with  that 
which  fortune  has  bestowed  upon  him  ? 
Titles,  wealth,  rank — By  Heavens  !  We  are 
equals  in  the  eyes  of  this  woman  !  If  needs 
be  I  will  dispute  her  possession,  come  what 
may  ! " 


228  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

Great  beads  of  perspiration  stood  out  upon 
hts  forehead. 

At  this  moment  Mile,  de  Montmeril  passed 
him,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  dashing  cava- 
lier. Instead  of  inciting  him  to  violence,  the 
sight  of  the  beautiful  girl  brought  the  tears 
to  his  eyes  anew. 

"  How  could  he  help  loving  her  !  "  he  mut- 
tered, "  poor  Bertrand  !  " 

Then  he  staggered  forward,  He  wanted 
to  see  his  brother,  as  he  was  anxious  to  put 
an  end  to  all  this  suspense  and  come  to  a 
decided  understanding. 

His  brother,  however,  had  left  the  hotel; 
while  searching  for  him,  he  suddenly  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Reine,  who,  recog- 
nizing him,  blushed  a  deep  red,  but  did  not 
attempt  to  conceal  her  embarrassment.  Roger 
approached  her;  Reine  had  entirely  recovered 
from  that  feeling  of  melancholy  which  op- 
pressed her  during  the  early  part  of  the 
evening.  She  was  a  little  piqued,  however,  at 
Bertrand's  conduct,  which  naturally  gave 
Roger  the  preference  just  then. 

Mile,  de  Montmeril  recalled  the  beautiful 
fetes  in  Nantes  and  the  many  pleasant  inter- 
views she  had  enjoyed  with  the  young  ensign. 
Roger  was  fairly  transported  with  joy.  He 
imagined  himself  beloved;  whereas,  in  reality 
she  was  only  amusing  herself  at  his  expense — 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  229 

she  was  paying  Bertrand  back  in  his  own 
coin. 

But  there  is  an  end  to  everything  !  Plea- 
sure, especially,  is  short-lived.  Roger  was 
finally  obliged  to  retire. 

He  had  drunk  his  fill  of  happiness  that 
night,  and  still  he  was  not  satisfied.  During 
the  rest  of  the  evening  he  lingered  about  the 
salons,  feasting  his  eyes  on  the  beautiful 
Reine,  and  this  persistent  attention  on  his 
part  finally  attracted  the  notice  of  a  group  of 
spectators. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  "  exclaimed  M.  de  Ker- 
cornbec  three  times  in  succession,  "  I  verily 
believe  that  the  little  ensign  is  trying  to  fol- 
low in  his  brother's  footsteps." 

Young  de  Tre"gaz,  smiled  the  smile  of  an 
imbecile  as  he  lisped  : 

"  He  !  he  !  he  !  I  have  heard  of  such 
things  before  !  " 

Then  M.  de  Chateautrubel,  ventured  his 
opinion  in  a  voice  which  squeaked  like  a  rusty 
door  ;  and  the  inhabitants  of  Vitre",  of  Vannes, 
of  Saint-Brieuc  and  Saint-Malo,  followed  suit 
in  a  variation  of  twang,  squeak  and  drawl. 
And  M.  de  Montme"ril  himself  noticed  Roger's 
bearing  towards  his  daughter.  Several  times 
he  seemed  on  the  point  of  addressing  Roger, 
but  he  invariably  changed  his  mind. 

Saint-Maugon  heeded  not  the  gossip  of  the 


230  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

fops,  as  he  had  eyes  only  for  Reine.  Had  a 
thunderbolt  fallen  at  his  feet,  it  would  not 
have  disturbed  his  silent  contemplation. 

But  to  a  soldier,  the  voice  of  his  commander 
sounds  even  louder  than  the  roar  of  the  ele- 
ments. It  was  Gilbert  de  Gadague  d'Has- 
tung,  Comte  de  Verdun,  and  colonel  of  the 
King's  Regiment,  who  awoke  him  from  his 
reverie. 

"Where  is  your  brother,  Monsieur  de 
Saint-Maugun  ? "  asked  the  colonel,  as  he 
tapped  Roger  familiarly  on  his  shoulder. 

The  ensign  was  not  thinking  of  his  brother 
just  then,  and  this  question  naturally  awak- 
ened painful  recollections. 

"  I  don't  know,  Colonel,"  he  replied  with 
evident  confusion. 

"  I  might  have  required  his  services.  You 
are  brave,  I  know,  Monsieur  Saint-Maugon. 
Are  you  also  prudent  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  !  " 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you  ;  but  it  is  a 
delicate  matter — listen  to  me." 

M.  de  Montmeril  had  approached  them 
without  attracting  their  attention.  He 
leaned  against  a  marble  pillar  and  listened. 

"  Monsieur  de  Saint-Maugon,"  continued 
the  colonel,  "  a  hundred  rebel  prisoners 
are  confined  in  the  chateau  of  Tour-le-Bat. 
We  fear  an  attack  to-morrow.  I  intended  to 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  231 

place  your  brother  in  command  of  the  castle, 
but  as  he  is  not  here,  and  the  time  presses, 
you  may  replace  him  if  you  are  willing." 

"  I  am  willing,  Colonel,  and  I  thank  you 
for  your  confidence." 

"  You  will  earn  it,  I  am  sure.  Now,  go 
and  prepare  yourself  at  once." 

The  colonel  saluted  him,  and  approached 
another  officer.  It  was  evident  that  strong 
measures  had  been  taken  to  guard  against  the 
expected  attack  of  the  rebels.  Just  as  Roger 
was  about  to  raise  the  portiere  to  pass  out, 
some  one  touched  him  on  the  arm,  while  a 
voice  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"  A  word  with  you,  if  you  please,  Monsieur 
Saint-Maugon." 

He  turned  around.  President  Montme'ril 
stood  beside  him.  At  that  moment  Roger 
would  have  excused  himself  from  any  other 
man,  but  how  could  he  refuse  to  speak  to 
Reine's  father  ? 

"  I  am  at  your  orders,  monsieur,"  said  he. 

"  Where  can  I  meet  you  in  two  hours'  time  ? " 

"  At  the  chateau  of  Tour-le-Bat,  where  I 
have  just  been  assigned  on  duty." 

"Very  well;  I  will  meet  you  there,  mon- 
sieur," calmly  added  M.  de  Montme'ril,  and 
the  next  moment  he  was  lost  in  the  crowd. 


232  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SOME  years  ago  the  ducal  chateau  of  Tour- 
le-Bat  was  still  pointed  out  to  visitors,  with  its 
parapets  rising  far  above  the  white  roofs  of 
the  modern  dwellings.  This  old  castle  seemed 
ashamed,  not  of  its  age,  but  of  the  insult 
which  had  been  inflicted  upon  it  in  its  old 
days.  The  home  of  the  Riches  Dues  had  been 
transformed  into  a  prison.  In  1683,  the  old 
chateau  was  neither  one  thing  nor  another. 
At  times  it  was  a  military  post,  and  again  it 
served  as  an  arsenal.  In  times  of  war,  that 
portion  of  the  eastern  ramparts  which  over- 
looked the  river  Vilaine,  together  with  the  for- 
tress of  Saint-Georges,  served  as  a  military 
prison. 

It  was  here  that  the  hundred  insurgents, 
who  had  been  taken  prisoners  in  the  last 
engagements,  were  confined. 

The  sun  had  just  risen,  and  was  gently  dis- 
persing the  prismatic  vapors  from  the  low 
marshes  which  separated  the  castle  from  the 
river.  Roger  de  Saint-Maugon,  seated  at  the 
base  of  the  ramparts,  was  plunged  in  deep 
reverie.  He  was  no  doubt  meditating  over 
what  had  transpired  the  night  before,  at  the 
ball  given  by  the  Marquis  de  Poulpry.  In  his 
fancy  he  perceived  Reine,  who  was  smiling  at 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  233 

him  most  sweetly;  then  he  beheld  his 
brother,  who  appeared  defeated  and  broken- 
hearted. 

"  He  thought  she  loved  him  !  "  murmured 
Saint-Maugon.  "  Poor  Bertrand  !  " 

The  voice  of  the  sentinels  challenging  a 
stranger  aroused  him  suddenly  from  his 
reverie.  This  stranger  was  of  almost  gigan- 
tic stature.  A  slouched  hat  concealed  his 
features,  while  the  rest  of  his  person  was 
enveloped  in  the  folds  of  a  long  cloak. 

"  Monsieur  de  Saint-Maugon  ! "  cried  out 
the  stranger,  "  I  have  come  to  keep  our 
appointment." 

"  It  must  be  President  Montme'ril," 
thought  Roger,  who  had  completely  forgot- 
ten this  incident.  Then  he  called  out  to 
the  sentry  : 

"  Let  the  stranger  pass  !  " 

The  soldiers  lowered  their  muskets  and 
drew  aside.  The  president  walked  slowly 
past  the  fortress  and  approached  Roger. 

"  Thanks,"  said  he. 

He  cast  a  glance  over  the  terrace  and 
measured  the  distance  which  separated  them 
from  the  sentinels,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that 
he  would  not  be  overheard. 

"  Monsieur  de  Saint-Maugon,"  he  suddenly 
remarked,  as  he  concluded  his  examination; 
"  you  love  my  daughter." 


234  ROMANTIC  L1BRAR  Y. 

The  young  man  could  not  restrain  a  move- 
ment of  astonishment. 

"  I  tell  you  that  you  love  my  daughter," 
repeated  M.  de  Montme'ril  in  a  peremptory 
tone.  "  You  have  loved  her  for  six  months  ; 
it  is  useless  for  you  to  deny  it,  for  I  know 
all.  I  suspected  this  already  at  Nantes,  and 
if  any  doubts  remained  in  my  mind  they  were 
dispelled  last  night.  Now,  tell  me,  monsieur, 
does  my  daughter  love  you  ?  " 

But  Roger  only  muttered  something  unin- 
telligible in  reply. 

"  At  least  you  suppose  she  reciprocates 
your  affection  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  If  I  might  only  believe  it  ! " 
remarked  Saint-Maugon  with  fervor. 

"  Well,  if  it  is  going  to  afford  you  any 
satisfaction,  you  can  believe  it  if  you  will," 
interrupted  M.  de  Montme'ril  ;  "  but  permit 
me  to  continue.  I  did  not  come  here  to 
listen  to  your  protestations  of  love." 

There  was  something  in  the  manner  of 
this  man  which  clearly  denoted  that  it  was 
put  on  for  the  occasion.  It  was  evident  that 
he  was  playing  a  part. 

"  I  have  called  to  say  that  Reine  de  Mont- 
me'ril can  never  be  your  wife." 

"Oh,  monsieur,  you  surely  cannot  mean 
this  !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  as  his  heart  sank 
within  him.  "  And  why  this  cruel  decision  ? " 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  235 

"  Because  I  am  a  Breton,  monsieur,  and 
you  are  only  a  Frenchman." 

Roger  drew  himself  up  proudly. 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur  le  president,"  he 
said,  "  but  you  seem  to  forget  that  my  sword 
has  the  precedence  over  your  judicial  robe  ; 
and  that  your  forefathers  walked  unnoticed 
in  a  crowd  while  mine  were  seated  on  the 
steps  of  the  ducal  throne  !  " 

"  So  much  the  better  for  those  who  follow 
the  right  path  !  "  exclaimed  Montme'ril,  show- 
ing himself  in  his  true  colors  at  last.  "  So 
much  the  worse  for  you  if  you  do  not  follow 
in  their  footsteps  !  " 

The  old  Breton  was  no  longer  enacting  a 
part.  What  he  said  was  inspired  by  his  love 
of  Brittany,  and  it  was  with  a  fresh  outburst 
of  patriotism  that  he  added  : 

"  Your  forefathers  swore  allegiance  to  a 
duke,  while  you  serve  a  king.  Now,  tell  me 
how  your  forefathers  would  have  sided:  with 
the  duke  or  with  the  king  ?  " 

"  But  you  are  going  back  two  hundred 
years,"  interrupted  Roger ;  "  there  is  no 
longer  a  duke." 

"  Monarchs  never  die,  monsieur,"  continued 
Montmeril  slowly,  "  and  they  possess  certain 
rights  no  one  can  suppress."  And,  remov- 
ing his  hat,  he  added  :  "  Monseigneur  Julien 
d'  Avaugour,  the  direct  and  legitimate  descen- 


236  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

dant  of  the  royal  house  of  Dreux,  although 
an  exile,  without  an  army  and  without  a  for- 
tune, is  still  Duke  of  Brittany  by  the  grace  of 
God,  just  the  same  as  if  he  had  a  hundred 
thousand  men  and  the  treasures  of  the  uni- 
verse at  his  disposal ! " 

"  I  sympathize  with  the  Chevalier  d'Avau- 
gour,  but  I  was  born  a  subject  of  the  King 
and  I  wear  his  uniform." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you  !  "  again 
muttered  Montme'ril.  Then  after  a  moment 
of  silence,  he  continued  :  "  My  determination 
is  irrevocable.  All  further  discussion  is 
therefore  useless.  And  yet  there  is  a  way — 
only  one  way— do  you  hear,  by  which  you 
can  overcome  my  scruples." 

Roger  listened  attentively.  His  death  war- 
rant was  about  to  be  pronounced. 

"  I  will  not  ask  you  to  become  a  Breton, 
since  you  were  born  a  Frenchman.  We  are 
numerous  enough,  Heaven  be  praised,  with- 
out imploring  assistance  from  outside.  How- 
ever, a  hundred  brave  followers  of  the  noble 
Duke  are  imprisoned  within  the  walls  of  this 
fortress,  their  only  crime  being  their  devotion 
to  his  cause.  If  you  will  set  them  free  I  will 
grant  you  the  hand  of  my  daughter  as  a  re- 
ward for  this  service." 

"  Why,  this  is  high  treason,  monsieur  !  " 
exclaimed  Saint-Maugon  as  he  drew  himself 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  2J7 

up  proudly.  "  How  dare  you  propose  such 
an  infamous  bargain  to  me  !  " 

"  As  you  say,  //  is  a  bargain"  coolly  re- 
plied Montmeril.  "  A  bargain  in  which  you 
have  everything  to  gain  ;  whereas  I,  alone, 
will  be  the  loser.  The  greatest  men  in  the 
country  are  disputing  the  possession  of  my 
daughter's  hand,  and  yet  I  offer  it  to  you, 
when  your  brother  would  consider  himself 
fortunate  indeed  were  a  like  favor  bestowed 
upon  him." 

"  My  brother  !  "  interrupted  Roger,  as  his 
heart  was  seared  with  jealousy. 

"  Exactly  !  Your  brother,  who  is  as  rich 
as  you  are  poor,  as  powerful  as  you  are  in- 
significant." 

Roger  clapped  his  hands  to  his  temples;  he 
thought  he  was  losing  his  reason. 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  take  a  hand  in  the 
liberation  of  the  prisoners;  I  simply  want  you 
to  promise  not  to  interfere.  It  is  surely  not 
treason  to  fall  asleep,  and  you  must  be  very 
tired  after  last  night's  excitement.  I  really 
believe  that  Reine  fancies  you  above  all  oth- 
ers, Monsieur  de  Saint-Maugon." 

"  My  God  !  my  God  !  "  murmured  Roger, 
struggling  manfully  against  this  terrible 
temptation. 

"  It  is  for  you  to  decide,"  continued  the 
wily  Breton.  "  Now,  answer  me,  do  you 


238  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

wish    to    be    Mile,    de    Montmeiil's    hus- 
band ? " 

"  Mercy  !  mercy  !  "  pleaded  the  ensign. 
"  Can  you  not  see  that  I  am  going  mad  ?  Go 
away  !  leave  me  !  " 

"  Your  refusal  will  make  Reine  seek  con- 
solation in  the  arms  of  another — " 

"  Ah  !  What  you  propose,  monsieur,  is 
infamous  !  You  are  committing  an  action 
unworthy  of  a  nobleman  and  a  Christian  to 
thus  tempt  a  sentinel  at  his  post !  Go  away  ! 
Leave  me,  I  say  !  " 

"  So  be  it,  then  !  "  exclaimed  Montmeril  as 
he  turned  his  back  upon  the  ensign.  "  Poor 
Reine  !  she  expected  a  different  answer  than 
this  !  " 

Roger  uttered  a  cry  of  horror,  and  seizing 
Montmeril  by  his  cloak,  he  bade  him  stay. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  he  with  that  madness 
which  is  born  of  despair  ;  "  give  me  Reine — 
and  take  my  honor  !  " 

*  *  *  *  * 

It  was  high  noon,  and  the  rain  poured 
down  in  torrents.  The  doleful  peals  of  the 
tocsin  were  plainly  audible  miles  away,  as 
they  chimed  simultaneously  from  the  five 
parish  steeples  of  Rennes,  while  the  big  bell 
in  the  watch-tower  warned  the  inhabitants 
that  something  unusual  had  occurred. 

Bertrand  de  Saint-Maugon  was  returning 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  239 

from  his  chateau  when  he  heard  the  bells 
ringing  in  the  distance. 

He  was  as  pale  as  a  ghost  after  a  sleepless 
night  passed  in  agony  and  suspense.  When 
he  left  the  ball-room  the  night  before  he 
mounted  his  horse  and  started  off  on  a  gallop 
in  the  direction  of  Saint-Maugon.  The  cool 
night  air,  as  it  fanned  his  overheated  brow, 
could  not  restore  his  peace  of  mind.  On 
reaching  the  chateau,  he  hastened  to  the 
salon  where  he  and  Roger  had  their  inter- 
view the  day  before,  and,  flinging  himself  into 
an  arm-chair,  he  gave  way  to  despair.  Sud- 
denly his  eyes  rested  upon  his  father's  por- 
trait, and  the  sight  of  that  noble  and  loyal 
countenance  brought  relief  to  his  wounded 
heart. 

Then  he  crossed  the  salon  with  a  firm 
tread,  and  placed  himself  on  his  knees  before 
the  portrait. 

"  Dear  father,"  he  said  as  he  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  "  ask  God  to  take  pity  on 
your  sons  and  inspire  them  with  the  strength 
to  do  right." 

The  hours  of  the  night  dragged  along 
slowly  ;  but  Bertrand  found  the  courage  to 
thrust  aside  his  love  for  Reine  ;  his  affection 
for  Roger  was  now  pre-eminent,  and  his  only 
thought  was  to  see  him  happily  mated  to  the 
woman  of  his  choice. 


240  ROMANTIC  LIBRAR  Y. 

After  this  painful  victory  of  mind  over 
matter,  he  felt  great  relief.  The  first  peals 
of  the  tocsin  which  greeted  his  ears  as  he 
rode  towards  Rennes  filled  his  breast  with  a 
savage  joy.  He  scented  the  danger  from 
afar,  and  so  he  spurred  on  his  horse,  as  he 
was  eager  for  the  fray.  He  longed  for  the 
dangers  of  the  battle — for  death  perhaps. 

And,  in  truth,  they  were  fighting  like 
fiends  incarnate  in  the  streets  of  Rennes. 
The  peasants  had  attacked  the  town  in  large 
numbers ;  they  had  come  from  the  forest  of 
Pertre,  from  Saint-Aubin-du-Cormier  and 
Louvigne-du-Desert.  The  royal  troops  were 
taken  by  surprise  as  they  were  attacked  from 
the  rear  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  town,  who 
were  joined  a  moment  later  by  the  hundred 
rebels  who  seemed  to  have  regained  their 
freedom  as  by  enchantment. 

The  younger  Saint-Maugon  had  also  dis- 
appeared as  completely  as  if  he  had  been 
spirited  away. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  single  cavalier  wearing 
the  uniform  of  the  King's  Own  and  the  epau- 
lettes of  a  captain,  was  seen  to  enter  the  gates 
of  the  city  by  the  faubourg  Saint-Hellier. 
Alone,  and  with  no  other  weapon  than  his 
trusty  sword,  he  dashed  upon  the  enemy  from 
the  rear  and  mowed  his  way  through  their 
serried  ranks  like  a  cannon-ball,  and  the  next 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  241 

moment  he  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  a 
detachment  of  fusileers  who  were  engaged 
in  the  defence  of  the  bridge  of  Viarmes.  It 
was  Bertrand  Mauguer  de  Saint-Maugon, 
baron  de  Kerhuan. 

With  his  arrival  the  tide  of  battle  changed. 
Although  he  was  celebrated  for  his  bravery, 
the  charge  he  made  on  this  occasion  added 
to  his  reputation  as  a  soldier  and  a  man  of 
undoubted  courage.  The  poor  peasants  fell 
beneath  the  blows  he  rained  upon  them  with 
his  sword,  like  wheat  beneath  the  reaper. 

They  resisted  for  a  long  time,  but  were 
finally  compelled  to  disband.  This  move- 
ment determined  the  fate  of  the  insurgents. 
But  the  royalists  paid  dearly  for  their 
victory.  Among  the  prisoners  captured  by 
the  rebels  was  Gilbert  de  Gadagne  d'Hostung, 
comte  de  Verdun,  whom  they  carried  off  to 
the  mountains. 

After  the  heat  of  battle  had  subsided,  a 
report  was  circled  among  the  officers  of  the 
King's  regiment  that  President  de  Mont- 
meril — who  had  fled  the  town — had  bribed  the 
officer  in  charge  of  the  chateau  of  Tour-le- 
Bat  to  liberate  the  hundred  prisoners. 

Who  was  this  officer  ?  No  one  could  tell, 
since  it  was  Gilbert  de  Gadagne  who  had 
changed  the  officer  of  the  guard,  and  the 
colonel  was  now  a  prisoner  himself. 


242  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

Bertrand  was  too  much  engrossed  in  his 
search  for  his  brother  to  heed  this  report. 
Covered  with  dust  and  blood,  he  ran  through 
the  streets,  seeking  Roger. 

Some  persons  affirmed  that  Roger  de  Saint- 
Maugon  was  still  at  his  post,  while  others 
declared  that  he  had  been  carried  off  by  the 
rebels,  together  with  the  other  prisoners. 

Finally,  one  of  his  brother-officers  insisted 
on  his  listening  to  the  story  of  the  treason 
which  sullied  the  honor  of  the  King's  regiment. 

At  the  mention  of  Reine's  father,  Bertrand 
started  as  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  flashed 
upon  his  mind.  He  turned  his  horse  around 
and  started  off  at  breakneck  speed  towards 
the  fortress  of  Tour-le-Bat. 

The  platform  was  deserted  ;  but,  on  enter- 
ing the  guard-room,  Bertrand  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  his  brother. 

"  Say  that  it  is  not  you  !  "  exclaimed  Ber- 
trand ;  "  tell  me  that  you  are  not  guilty  !  " 

But  Roger  did  not  attempt  to  defend  him- 
self; Bertrand,  whose  heart  was  breaking, 
seated  himself  beside  him. 

"  Tell  me,  brother,"  he  continued  in  a  sup- 
plicating voice ;  "  tell  me  that  you  are  in- 
nocent." 

Same  silence. 

A  flash  of  indignation  shone  in  Bertrand's 
eyes. 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  243 

At  this  moment  the  officers  in  the  adjoining 
room  could  be  heard  as  they  discussed  the 
situation. 

"  We  must  discover  the  traitor  !  "  cried  one 
of  the  officers. 

Roger  arose  from  his  seat,  and,  placing 
his  hand  over  his  heart,  he  staggered  and 
fell  an  inanimate  mass  on  the  guard-room 
floor. 

Bertrand  stooped  over  him  and  imprinted  a 
kiss  on  his  icy  brow.  Then  he  walked  out 
of  the  guard-room,  locking  the  door  behind 
him. 

"  The  traitor  !  Where  is  the  traitor !  " 
yelled  the  officers  outside. 

"  He  is  here,  gentlemen  !  "  said  Bertrand 
de  Saint-Maugon  as  he  approached  the  other 
officers. 

They  started  back  in  surprise. 

"  Monsieur  de  Saint-Maugon,"  said  Hugue 
de  Maurevers,  the  lieutenant-colonel,  "  I 
witnessed  your  noble  conduct  during  the  en- 
gagement, so  I  cannot  look  upon  you  as  a 
traitor." 

"  I  tell  you  that  I  am  guilty  ! "  insisted 
Bertrand. 

Maurevers  reflected  a  moment. 

"  There  is  a  mystery  in  all  this  that  I  do 
not  understand,"  he  said,  "  Nevertheless,  I 
must  do  my  duty.  In  the  name  of  his 


244  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

Majesty  Louis  XIV.,  I  summon  you  to  sur- 
render your  sword  ! " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  following  morning  found  the  two 
brothers  confined  in  a  dunjon  of  Tour-le-Bat. 
Roger  was  tossing  about  restlessly  on  the 
camp  bed,  which,  with  two  stools,  was  the  only 
furniture  the  prison  contained. 

Bertrand,  kneeling  before  a  wooden  crucifix 
which  was  suspended  from  the  wall,  was  say- 
ing his  matinal  devotions. 

Suddenly  the  roll  of  the  drums  sounding 
the  reveille  aroused  Roger  from  his  slumber. 
His  eyes  fell  on  Bertrand  as  he  knelt  there 
on  the  hard  floor  of  the  cell. 

"  Ah  !  it  was  only  a  dream,  after  all !  "  he 
murmured.  "A  frightful  and  cruel  dream, 
Bertrand." 

Bertrand  arose  and,  approaching  Roger,  he 
seated  himself  beside  him  on  the  camp  bed, 
as  he  replied  in  a  severe  yet  kindly  voice  : 

"  May  God  bless  you,  brother." 

"  If  you  only  knew  what  I  dreamed  !  "  con- 
tinued Roger  as  he  kissed  his  brother  tender- 
ly. "  I  shudder  when  I  think  of  it — but  where 
are  we  ? — these  cold  walls,  this  damp  ground — 
what  does  it  all  mean — " 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  245 

And  Roger  fell  backwards  on  the  cot. 

"  Oh,  horrors  !  It  was  not  a  dream  then, 
after  all !  Our  father's  name  is  sullied — " 

Bertrand  took  his  brother's  hand  and 
pressed  it  in  his  own.  A  father's  love  was  de- 
picted in  the  look  the  first-born  Saint  Maugon 
bestowed  upon  him.  Roger  sobbed  violently 
and  he  attempted  no  longer  to  restrain  his 
tears. 

"  It  is  you  who  will  marry  her  !  "  he  gasped 
between  his  sobs.  "  Fool  that  I  was  !  The 
wretch  deceived  me." 

"  The  temptation  was  too  strong  for  one  of 
your  years  to  resist,  brother." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  exclaimed  Roger.  "  How  could 
I  resist  him  ?  I  can  still  hear  his  words  ring- 
ing in  my  ears.  And  if  he  had  asked  me  a 
still  greater  sacrifice — but  what  more  could 
he  have  demanded  !  " 

He  suddenly  withdrew  his  hand,  and 
turned  his  head  towards  the  wall. 

''You  must  despise  me,  monsieur  mon 
frere,"  he  sobbed. 

"  I  love  you  and  I  pity  you,"  tenderly  re- 
plied the  captain. 

"  You  pity  !  and  why  should  you  not :  since 
you  are  happy  !  " 

Bertrand  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven. 

"  Brother,"  said  he,  "you  suffer  ;  you  know 
not  what  you  say.  I  forgive  you." 


2  46  ROMA  N  TIC  L1BRAR  Y. 

"  What  care  I  for  your  forgiveness  !  "  cried 
out  Roger  fiercely,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 
"And  I  scorn  your  pity,  monsieur.  Reine 
loved  me,  I  know  it, — I  swear  it  !  I  swear 
it,  do  you  hear  ?  " 

And  he  paced  up  and  down  the  dungeon 
with  long  strides. 

"  She  loves  me — they  will  kill  me — you 
will  then  marry  her — but — " 

"  You  misjudge  me,  brother,"  calmly  re- 
plied Bertrand. 

Roger  halted  and  looked  his  brother  full 
in  the  face.  Suffering  frequently  corrupts 
those  who  are  weak.  At  that  moment  he 
thoroughly  despised  his  brother. 

"The  hypocrite!"  he  thought.  "He 
scoffs  at  me  after  he  has  cheated  me  of  my 
happiness !  " 

Then  he  added  roughly  : 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?  I  am  a  prison- 
er;  you  are  free  ;  can't  I  even  enjoy  the  pri- 
vacy of  my  prison  ?  " 

"  Poor  boy  !  "  murmured  the  elder  Saint- 
Maugon. 

He  judged  Roger  after  his  own  nature. 
It  is  true  that  Roger  suffered,  but  his  torture 
was  not  that  of  remorse.  Ignorant  of  his 
brother's  devotion,  he  believed  that  he  was  a 
prisoner,  accused  of  treason.  The  punish- 
ment which  was  to  follow  seemed  to  him  like 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  247 

an  expiation.  But  it  was  the  thought  that  he 
had  not  profited  by  his  treachery  which  in- 
furiated him.  Reine  would  escape  him  af- 
ter all.  His  honor,  that  priceless  stake,  had 
been  played  and  lost.  In  return,  shame  was 
heaped  upon  him  instead  of  the  happiness  he 
expected. 

The  fatal  shame  which  cannot  be  atoned 
for :  the  scaffold. 

But  his  mad  jealousy  blinded  him  to  his 
shame.  His  suffering  lay  in  the  loss  of  the 
woman  he  loved. 

The  day  before,  Roger  was  still  a  loyal, 
though  a  weak  man.  To-day,  he  was  a  traitor 
to  his  king  and  to  his  country  ;  he  was  un- 
worthy of  a  noble  name  :  he  was  a  degraded 
soldier,  and  a  bad  brother. 

To  those  who  are  weak,  life  is  but  a  dan- 
gerous lottery.  Old  age  may  come  to  a  few, 
but  the  majority  fall  by  the  wayside  after 
having  tasted  of  the  cup  of  shame.  With 
them  honor,  fidelity  and  honesty  are  like  the 
gaudy  colors  on  cheap  fabrics.  In  the 
morning,  they  are  dazzling  ;  at  night,  after 
they  have  been  caught  in  a  shower,  they  are 
tarnished  and  faded. 

In  Roger,  Bertrand  only  saw  the  unfortu- 
nate, not  the  guilty  man.  Generous  and  de- 
voted like  all  those  who  are  strong,  he  had 
decided  from  the  very  first  to  draw  the  storm 


248  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

upon  himself  so  as  to  save  his  brother.  But 
he  did  not  wish  to  disclose  his  object,  for 
fear  of  meeting  with  opposition  on  the  part 
of  Roger.  The  latter  imagined  himself  a 
prisoner  ;  he  did  not  wish  to  enlighten  him. 
Therefore,  when  Roger  commanded  him  to 
leave  the  room,  he  immediately  retired.  As 
he  was  a  prisoner,  he  was  compelled  to 
remain  in  the  little  hall  which  connected 
with  the  dungeon.  As  he  stood  there,  intend- 
ing to  give  his  brother  the  impression  that  he 
had  left  the  prison  altogether,  a  key  turned 
in  the  lock  of  the  door  and  a  soldier  entered, 
followed  by  a  woman  heavily  veiled. 

"  You  may  come  in,  madame,"  said  the 
soldier.  "  The  orders  are  unusually  strict, 
but,  were  they  to  hang  me  I  could  not  refuse 
you  permission  to  see  monsieur  le  baron  if  it 
made  him  happy  to  see  you." 

And  this  same  sentiment  was  echoed 
throughout  the  regiment.  Bertrand  was 
popular  among  the  men  by  reason  of  his 
kindness  and  bravery. 

The  lady  now  removed  her  veil.  It  was 
Mile,  de  Montme'ril. 

Bertrand  was  not  prepared  for  this  visit. 
The  sight  of  Reine  softened  his  heart.  He 
felt  his  resolution  wavering.  The  passion, 
which  he  thought  was  subdued  forever,  once 
more  made  its  appearance,  and  the  struggle 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  249 

was  even  more  determined  than  ever  before. 
He  loved  Reine  with  that  passionate  and 
profound  love  which  comes  but  once  to  a  man 
in  the  course  of  his  lifetime. 

"  I  was  resigned  to  my  fate,"  he  muttered; 
"  why  has  God  sent  me  this  bitter  cup  ?  " 

Bertrand,  concealing  his  confusion,  bowed 
with  respectful  dignity  and  gravely  pointed 
to  the  single  chair  which  graced  the  ante- 
chamber of  the  prison.  But  Reine  declined 
to  be  seated. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  began,  "  I  have  called 
here  in  compliance  with  my  father's  wishes." 

"  And  can  M.  de  Montme'ril  restore  to  us 
our  honor  ? " 

"  Your  honor  ! "  exclaimed  Reine  with  a 
movement  of  surprise.  "It  is  your  liberty 
which  is  in  question.  And,  by  the  saints  in 
Heaven  !  "  she  added,  unable  to  sustain  the 
role  she  was  playing  any  longer  ;  "  why  do 
you  speak  to  me  thus,  Bertrand  !  What  have 
I  done  ?  What  is  wrong  with  you  since  yes- 
terday ? " 

"  Since  yesterday  !  "  murmured  the  captain. 
"  Ah  !  I  have  been  very  unhappy  since  yester- 
day, mademoiselle  !  " 

"  But  it  is  not  yet  too  late—"  Reine  began. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  it  is  !  "  replied  Bertrand. 
"  You  were  saying  that  my  liberty  was  at 
stake  ? " 


250  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

"  I  have  come  here  to  save  you.  In  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  the  sentries  will  be 
changed  ;  they  have  been  bribed  and  you 
will  be  permitted  to  escape." 

"  Can  this  be  true  ? "  eagerly  asked  the 
captain. 

"  Everything  is  in  readiness  !  "  continued 
Reine.  "  The  horses  are  already  saddled." 

"  Thank  God,  he  will  be  saved  !  "  exclaimed 
Bertrand. 

Love  had  again  been  defeated.  His  noble 
nature  had  once  more  asserted  itself. 

Reine  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  this  allu- 
sion to  another. 

11  Of  whom  do  you  speak  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Listen  :  It  is  through  you  that  he  is  un- 
fortunate ;  your  father  was  the  cause  of  his 
crime.  Your  debt  is  heavy  :  you  must  pay  it, 
mademoiselle." 

"  It  is  you  whom  I  have  come  to  save." 

"  And  I  tell  you  that  it  is  he  whom  you 
will  assist  to  escape  !  Roger,  my  poor  bro- 
ther, whose  future  was  so  promising  only 
yesterday  ;  and  who  loves  you  so  that  he  sac- 
rificed everything, — aye,  even  his  honor  to 
prove  his  devotion  !  " 

"  But  you,  Bertrand — you  !  " 

"  I,  mademoiselle — " 

But  Bertrand's  lips  refused  to  consummate 
the  sacrifice. 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  251 

After  a  short  silence  he  summoned  up  the 
courage  to  add  : 

"  Why,  I—/  do  not  love  you  !  " 

Reine  leaned  against  the  cold  stone  of  the 
prison  wall  for  support. 

"  You  see  you  must  save  him  ! "  added 
Bertrand  with  emphasis. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Reine,  recalling  her  woman- 
ly pride  ;  "  I  am  ready  to  save  your  brother, 
monsieur." 

Roger  was  reclining  on  the  cot  when  they 
entered.  At  the  sight  of  Reine  he  started  to 
his  feet.  He  could  not  credit  his  senses. 

When  they  told  him  to  follow  Reine,  he  did 
so  without  hesitation.  He  never  waited  to 
reason  how  it  was  that  they  permitted  him,  a 
prisoner,  to  pass  unchallenged.  Neither  did 
he  notice  that  his  brother  remained  behind 
in  the  dungeon.  He  did  not  even  have  a 
parting  word  for  Bertrand.  Reine  was  there. 
In  her  he  saw  his  salvation — she  was  his 
world,  his  all  !  He  therefore  followed  her  as 
a  somnambulist  follows  the  magnetic  power 
which  lures  him  on. 

Reine,  on  the  contrary,  could  not  repress 
a  sigh  which  penetrated  to  the  inmost  recess 
of  Bertrand's  heart  as  the  door  of  the  prison 
closed  upon  the  two  beings  he  so  dearly 
loved. 

And   when  the  rattle  of  chains  and  the 


252  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

beating  of  horses'  hoofs,  a  little  later,  warned 
him  of  his  brother's  escape,  he  raised  his  eyes 
to  heaven  and  thanked  God  for  having  given 
him  the  courage  to  stand  this  trying  ordeal. 
***** 

There  were  garlands  of  flowers  around  the 
venerable  pillars  of  the  chateau  of  Saint- 
Maugon.  The  gilded  coat  of  arms  of  the  de 
Mauguers  scintillated  in  the  lights  of  a  thou- 
sand torches.  This  was  eighteen  months 
after  the  events  we  have  just  related. 

"  M.  le  baron  de  Kerhuan  may  boast  that 
his  wife  is  the  handsomest  woman  in  Brit- 
tany," remarked  young  de  Kercornbec. 

"  You  might  have  added  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  the  world,"  chimed  in  little  Tre"gaz 
with  his  Nantais  accent. 

Then  the  inhabitants  of  Vitre",  Saint-Breuc, 
Vannes  and  Saint-Malo  had  their  little  say  on 
the  subject;  after  which  M.  de  Kercornbec 
continued  in  his  most  musical  voice: 

"  The  poor  baron  had  a  lucky  escape,  you 
remember,  messieurs,  about  eighteen  months 
ago.  If  those  confounded  peasants  had  not 
set  Colonel  de  Gadagne  at  liberty,  the  eldest 
Saint-Maugon  would  have  permitted  himself 
to  be  condemned  in  his  brother's  stead." 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  Gilbert  de  Gadagne  re- 
turned just  in  the  nick  of  time.  It  was  he 
who  had  assigned  young  Roger  de  Saint- 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  253 

Maugon  to  the  old  chateau.  His  testimony 
saved  the  baron's  life." 

A  valet,  carrying  a  salver  laden  with 
delicious  wines,  happened  to  pass  at  that 
moment.  "  I  propose  the  health  of  the  newly 
married  couple  !  "  exclaimed  M.  de  Chateau- 
trubel. 

This  motion  was  accepted  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  And  what  has  become  of  Roger,  may  I 
ask  ?  "  ventured  little  de  Tregaz. 

"  He  was  dead  in  love  with  Mile,  de  Mont- 
meril,  who  is  now  la  baronne  de  Kerhuan. 
But  the  beautiful  Reine  never  loved  him. 
When  M.  de  Gadagne's  testimony  revealed 
the  truth,  Roger,  who  was  in  hiding  in  the 
chateau  of  Montmeril,  took  to  his  heels." 

"  He  was  a  good  fellow,  but  he  was  awfully 
weak." 

"  That  may  all  be,  messieurs,"  interrupted 
Chateautrubel ;  "  but  he  died  like  a  man  and 
a  true  Breton.  He  was  killed  before  Algiers, 
and  he  fell  fighting  for  his  king." 

A  stranger  entered  the  salon  at  this 
moment.  His  slouched  hat  completely  con- 
cealed his  features.  He  wore  the  double 
sword-knot  which  denoted  the  rank  of  captain 
in  those  days.  He  smiled  as  he  overheard 
the  above  remark. 

During  this  time,  Bertrand  de  Saint-Mau- 


254  ROMANTIC  LIBRARY. 

gon,  seated  besides  his  wife,  was  thoughtful 
even  in  the  midst  of  his  happiness. 

"  You  appear  sad,  Bertrand,"  tenderly 
remarked  Reine. 

"  I  am  indeed  happy,"  replied  the  captain, 
"  because  you  are  my  wife  and  you  love  me. 
But  my  father  placed  him  in  my  charge  on 
his  death-bed.  He  was  not  only  my  brother 
but  a  son  as  well.  Poor  Roger  !  " 

"  Poor  Roger  !  "  repeated  Reine. 

"  My  brother  !  my  noble  brother  !  "  said  a 
voice  at  their  side.  Then  Bertrand  felt  him- 
self raised  in  a  pair  of  strong  arms,  while  two 
lips  were  pressed  tightly  upon  his  own. 

The  stranger's  hat  fell  off  and  revealed 
Roger,  browned  by  the  hot  African  sun. 

Bertrand  uttered  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  By  my  faith  !  "  murmured  young  de  Ker- 
cornbec,  "  it  seems  that  he  is  not  dead, 
after  all.  On  the  contrary,  he  has  been  pro- 
moted." 

"  I  wanted  to  take  part  in  your  happiness," 
added  Roger  ;  "  I  rejoin  my  regiment  to- 
morrow." 

"  What !    So  soon  ?  "  exclaimed  Reine. 

"  Sister — let  me  call  you  thus — "  replied 
the  young  man  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice, 
"  deeds  of  valor  alone  can  efface  the  shame  of 
the  past." 

"  God    is     just  !  "    murmured    Bertrand. 


A  NOBLE  SACRIFICE.  255 

"  He  has  given  me  those  I  love — Reine,  my 
wife  ;   and  Roger,  my  brother — my  son  !  " 

Then  M.  de  Chateautrubel  proposed  to 
drink  the  health  of  the  prodigal,  just  retui  ned. 
A  proposition  that  was  unanimously  seconded 
by  M.  de  Kercornbec  and  M.  de  Tre'gaz,  and 
by  the  inhabitants  of  Vitre",  Saint-Brieuc, 
Vannes  and  Saint-Malo. 


THE   END. 


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